Swan Song

As the year ends and the ice swells,

The swans gather where the creeks meet the lakes.

Only small patches of open water now,

Steam rising and crystallizing around the shrinking waves.

The ice is too rotten for humans to travel and too thick for the swans to penetrate

In this moment, the swans triumph, the lake theirs alone.

A short victory-

The swans swim in circles,

Ignoring the closing ice.

IMG_0486Some transitions are easier to ignore than others

The persistence of life in inhospitable environments always fascinates me.

For more inevitable transitions, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.


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