I pray for light that shows
the power of the mysterious ruby
of the heart.
The simple gesture that moves
beneath the world's loud howl,
tending the soil, embracing the
wounded dog.
Or sudden beauty's startling embrace
altering our consciousness with its power.
Today four white swans
elegantly quartered a circle
of ice, surrounded by a
dark mote of winter lake.
These migrating swans sat,
wings slightly lifted,
bodies tilted toward the
water, allowing curvaceous necks
to dip for deep, vegetarian delights.
Forming an ancient Indian symbol,
each swan sat at its elemental point,
simultaneously participating
in a wondrous ballet of eating.
Farther out, on the other side
of the mote, hundreds of Canada geese
float in silence, as though
in awe of such beauty and power.
At horizon's edge, a setting sun
pushes aside a long curtain of dark cloud
and stares with silvery rays focused
on the icy symbol, momentarily
turning the swans a luminous pink.
The geese give a cacophonous
salute with much wing-flapping
and boisterous movement which
stops suddenly as the sun sets.
Elegant. Beautiful. Fierce.
Life caring for itself.
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