Brett Anderson The Swans
Huddled like rabbits by the hole by the fence, frozen
like statues to the chair on the lake
Clouds of birds, make shadows on the moss, fields of
kale, all patterned with ice
Woah outside, woah the swans rise, woah, woah
Curve of the river like the neck of a swan, and the veil
of the sky all peppered with rain
Fields of crows picked clean to the bone, and a love
unchained by the chatter of time
Woah outside, woah swans rise
Woah
