A quick, fleeting glimpse of pale, fluid grace,
on a lonely pond, ringed by verdant grove.
Slipping through the rushes without a trace,
a sleek feathered sloop, glides across the cove.
Pausing hesitantly in hushed concern,
hearing forlorn zephyrs as they hover,
for amid its whispers he may discern,
the longed for answered call, of his lover.
But no soft voice is heard from his adored mate,
after winter's end and the distance he's flown,
Only his heart's quiver at his new fate,
to suffer spring's sweet love affair, alone.
Before, hope was doubled, as he sought her.
Now, He's the sole lovely on the water.