My Swans
by Helen George

My home is on the banks of a little creek,
Gazing along the edge I spot an orange beak,
Then this snowy white swan suddenly appears,
With seven little cygnets bringing up the rear.

As they float along, they bring a smile to my face,
The pen crooks her neck with such elegant grace,
She fluffs her great wings while dipping her head,
Searching out food while she silently treads.

Late afternoon brings the return of the cob,
Their beaks touch gently as on the water they bob,
They've mated for life and will nurture their brood,
Keep an eye out for predators lest they intrude.

They came last winter and decided to stay,
And the little ones arrived at the end of May,
I watch them in wonder, such a joyful sight,
Willing them to remain and not to take flight.