Mark Roper
Swan House
And what were we to make of that swan
which came crashing through the mist, low
over the house like a lost glory,
so sudden it was gone before it came,
re-assumed into mist, its light
only seeming to reach us then, as if
we only saw it when we breathed the word Swan,
as if all recognition were farewell.
Faster than words yet slower than sound it went:
sound had reached us first, coming from nowhere
but rising, an echo returning to its source,
the mist rhythmed, strained to breaking
and then sound was above us, the air
hallowed by a steady magnificent applause
which drew us up and in until
we both were and were received into
the house of our astonished praise.
Page(s) 11
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