On majestic widespread wings,
up from dawn-cold pothole, strains
sunward through low-lying fog,
heaving, gaining height and speed,
flashing morning’s dazzling glare.
Now; what! – four-winged tundra swan?
Four!Yes.Four!!! wings sunward drive.
Slightly parting:Ah!Swans – two!
Male and female, closely matched,
speeding, climbing, two by one.
Necks and breasts show stress and strain,
wheeling, flashing, dazzling bright.
Match them; clock them, with them run…
mile a minute! – faster, climb!
Formed up close.Still sunward, fly!
Looking downward, honking back,
ground-bound voyeur, envious.
Still together stroke for stroke,
mates forge perfect symmetry.