The pond, the peasant and the swan (Part 1)

Past the moon light
over the tall knoll
under the bows of the mighty

exists a pond
steaming from the warmth of the day
like glass the water is still

it is the stage for countless fireflies
that dance with the evening chill

there on the grandstand
lives the Olympian
who gently glides
in silent elegance

looping under ribbons of light
she is the matriarch
of this small kingdom

tucked on the edge of timber
it is here a figure appears

she is not alone

peering from behind the steam
his eyes gleamed
slowly following the white

he examines her majesty
transfixed on ever feather

he watched

feeling strange
he saw what lies before him

a shape yet odd

her glowing feathers she spread
bathed in moon light

her body ached
twisted and full
wings to arms
feathers to curves
beak to full rose
eyes to blue

her hair flowed a gray stream
covering her subtle breasts

he fell to his knees
eyes wide
hidden in spring fed grass

his eyes following the slight shadows
of her neck
pass the barren of her belly
down through taut slender legs
he confessed, he declared
that she was his

the maiden now notice
the eyes of another
demands he reveals thy self
from toe to tip
the stunned man stepped
a man of no work or duty
nor rich or fame
he stepped into view

a peasant

her ice blue eyes
weave through his features

their eyes met
and as if fated
they fell at first glance