The Violent Swan

The voiceless lake 
lay in close calm frozen 
in borrowed time ambrosian
moments as the new dawn
peers over the far distant pantheon.

Creatures of rest
awaken from nocturnal nest 
yawn and stretch and amble
to the glasslike lake through bramble
to refresh old bodies reborn 
into an unfamiliar bright morn.

Old owl and coyote
like a Don Quixote
still sleep soundly
after midnight hunts profoundly.

A sinless swan 
swims slow and wan
slicing a gaping wound 
through still glass like a sharp harpoon.       

Glass now shatters,
Raven alone chatters
sitting high on a tree
observing all wanting to flee.

Past wordless poems now slowly
all life moves sadly unholy.

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