Swans necking…

…I swear. 2am post comedy cafe, 2 shows. A bit of sonneteering from 90-96 with memory drops on 93, 94 and 95 under the europarking. I-pod shuffle on ‘At 17’, trying to learn the words on the bike ride home. ‘I learned the truth at 17,…’

Stop at the water to watch the swans. One sleeping softly, neck coiled and tucked in, from swelling breast to resting wing. Further upstream 2 other swans engage in a full on love session, elongated then curled necks make heart shapes with one another. Reflecting themselves geometrically in the water. it’s one of those dark clear nights when reflections reveal a real mirror of reality.

A third swan, not less downy white, stretches its neck and honks a wistful cry to sleeping swan, who awakes. The pair slowly glide my way and i did ‘Shall I compare thee…’ to their waiting ears (do swans have ears)?

‘The devil damn thee black, thou cream-faced loon! where gott’st thou that goose look?’ Mac. Act 5: Sc 3. The only instance of ‘loon’ in Shakespeare and it isn’t the bird with the distinctive call. Its cognate is ‘lown’ or a rogue, sluggard or worthless idiot.
A swan is a swan now as then. Our Shakes, aka the Sweet Swan of Avon captured that level of truth. The grace and beauty of a swan is timeless. The timeless moments in life make life worth living for. Such a truth in the words of that sonnet.

‘But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
when in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.’ Q18.