Morning, Jamaica Plain
The swan is a white star drifting
across the onyx pond,
the phosphorescent neck
curving between the black altitudes of trees,
in the held silence of balance:
bird in the shroud and bunting of water.
On the roadway, drivers stare from their bright wild cars,
glassed inside their confused galaxies,
as this one white piece
falls into place, so silently,
this swan
gathering no speed at all,
in the low firmament of the pond.
by Suzanne E. Berger
from Smith College Poetry Center