The Swan (Oliver: Bone)

For my small, incredible Great-Nanny, who loved Swans, who has been gone for seven years too long.

Inspired by Mary Oliver's poem by the same name.    
Inwardly descending, shifting across the creek  
   she comes  
      with the grace of a purest babe  
   and careful, as mother carrying it  
'her ship, filled  
   with white flowers–'
      dancing upon the early-grey  
   of ghosts, in their holy chariots.  
I miss my Grandmother's company–  
   sketching waves  
      within perfectly penned lines and  
   of course! Songs a-sung -  
hymns of angels never-heard.  
   Secrets shift beneath a surface,
      too fine and infinitely thin  
   to perceive.  
Hollowed out on gutted instruments of man they are played,
   left safer untouched - lingering ear to ear, eye to eye,  
       with almost words,  
     almost touches.  
Hover back, dear fullest ship,  
     with cargo of earnest pleasures,  
       carry your goodness between this life and next  
   safekeeping histories of the goddess 'neath your wing.

#Mary Oliver  
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published | Edited 9th Jan 2019
Author's Note
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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