A reflection
Of sophistication and wealth
with head held
Arched upward
While looking down;

Wings folded in a
Violin-under-the-chin
Sort of fashion—
While gliding through the mirror of some grand estate
During a Summer-golden
Old-English
Noonday.
Until winter—

The end of winter—
And returned from migration,
When the pond is wet
Yet
Unthawed;

For there is nothing
More confused-looking
Than elegance
Standing
In the middle of a frozen lake—

Feet exposed and looking
For the water that waits
Just below.