Poetry Friday

The Swan  

Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river?
Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air –
An armful of white blossoms,
A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned
into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies,
Biting the air with its black beak?
Did you hear it, fluting and whistling
A shrill dark music – like the rain pelting the trees – like a waterfall
Knifing down the black ledges?
​​​​​​​And did you see it, finally, just under the clouds –
​​​​​​​A white cross Streaming across the sky, its feet
​​​​​​​Like black leaves, its wings Like the stretching light of the river?
​​​​​​​And did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything?
​​​​​​​And have you too finally figured out what beauty is for?
​​​​​​​And have you changed your life?

​​​​​​​Mary Oliver