Swan in a flap. Duck!
I saw an extremely grumpy swan. It was terrorising all the other pond users. I was too scared to get any decent pictures of its systematic ridding of ducks.
But here’s a sonnet on what I saw:
A duck is swimming slowly on the lake.
Behind him, there’s a huge, majestic swan.
The swan is pulsing purposefully on
Towards the calm and peaceful, harmless drake.
The swan’s white neck becomes an icy snake;
The perfect two, with pent up hate contracts;
It lifts: a cobra’s readiness to act.
He catapults his head across the lake.
The grassy bank’s no haven for the duck.
On land, the swan, his vast white wings unfurls,
Gives chase, his neck, an arrow shaft, he hurls…
A waddle, flap: duck’s saved by welcome luck.
Beyond, serene, another swan’s expecting
She waits in peace and rests as he’s protecting.