Brett Anderson
The Swans
Huddled like rabbits by the hole by the fence, frozen like statues to the chair on the lakeClouds of birds, make shadows on the moss, fields of kale, all patterned with iceWhoa outside, woah the swans rise, whoa, whoaCurve of the river like the neck of a swan, and the veil of the sky all peppered with rainFields of crows picked clean to the bone, and a love unchained by the chatter of timeWhoa outside, whoa swans riseWhoa
From Letras Mania