Swans

They were only one of a pair,

So beautiful, quite beyond compare;

In wedding white, they approached,

The purity of the falling snow.

I marveled, spoke in whispered tones,

Lest they should hear the pounding of my heart;

Two clouds sent by God; two perfect puffs of white,

To brighten my darkened day or night.

Marvelous, marvelous, I thought;

Surely a sign, an omen of things to come;

A divine appreciation of devoted bliss;

A certain something of which I had none.

God, God, I prayed, let them stay;

For just an hour or for a day;

Long enough for me to understand;

Their mystery in this foreign land.

What do they say; what do they mean;

Why me, why now; why anything?

What is their call, their message,

Show me a sign of the divine?

All I heard as they left my place,

Is a swish of wings, a hiss perhaps;

Telling nothing or telling all,

That departed beauty may return no more.

Tris; lookin' for his swans.