We can’t all be swans
Those ships of serenity
Whose surface appearance
Belies frantic pedalling
Beneath reflected view
To keep themselves on course
Where would swans be
In a world of their own
Without the babbles of ducks
Or twitters of warblers skulking in reeds?
Like a gathering of superstars
In supercilious congestion
Dead on their feet
Without the vulgarity
Needed to keep them flowing
By stirring the current
In common pools of correspondence
For all to breathe, including swans
Like noble gases
Semblances of calm
Amidst the swirling play of elements
Seeking satisfaction through the balancing of their orbits
Yet in that restless search for harmony
Needing to succeed only rarely
And never completely
If they are to keep the current stirred