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| Migrating Wild Swans by Gay Reiser Cannon Published by Winnipeg Free Press |
I wake to find the swans have flown away;
their honking calls have ceased; the rushes stilled.
No more their graceful glides upon the lake;
now autumn's passed, my aging body's chilled.
The conversation's brief, no warmth of love.
I wake to find the swans have flown away;
I search for sounds of wheeling up above,
but hear instead soft chirps of birds who stay.
Cold floorboards creak, the grate emits no flame.
I wrap my doubts inside my old gray shawl --
I wake to find the swans have flown away
beyond the feathered clouds, the castle's wall.
I wait within and bear the solitude;
the window frost conceals my masquerade.
The wind and trees sing frozen winter tunes,
I wake to find the swans have flown away.
© Gay Reiser Cannon * All Rights Reserved
Preview for FormForAll @dVersePoets Pub
12/6/2012 - posted for #OLN
Variation on a Quatern - where five meets four
four stanzas - four lines - five feet iambic pentameter
Refrain line quoted from W.B. Yeats'
Wild Swans at Coole
