swan song

her laugh lingers with me
at the corner by the creek
where we tethered the raft
where the tennis balls
taught me their algorithms
thousands of memories
boggle the mind
probe the soul

she laughed with wild abandon
and giggled with glee
or crying her culling call
summoned cygnets three
curly-haired terriers
she’d take out for a stroll
sweet as black long-haired licorice
she taught me how to bowl

her dear precious pierogi
sweet pressed pizzelle
never far from her lips
except to burst forth in laughter
or tell tales of epic sales
each story was numbered
yet never grew stale
from this chortling pole

but then she was gone
flown south for a spell
dear pen and her cob
and three darling cygnets
flown from little browne mob
we flew south to see them
nested by golf’s greene
her laugh still could cajole

then many years later
this smiling swan
visited herons’ nest
for a well earned rest
resilient as goose’s gold
her hand never to fold
squinting at opportunity
in the land of the seminole

my heart never forgot
the laugh of the mother swan
her cygnets still dear to me
from the days by the creek
from the sugary streak
water under the brook’s bridge
off in the distance her smile does peek
hear her singing her swan song
laughing at the nineteenth hole

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About Brad Werner

Technical Evangelist
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