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Swans in Spring Marsh
by Michael Escoubas

It is just past day break
my boots squish in the soft earth
as I trek along the bank—

the sky is robin's-egg blue
shrouded in wispy cobweb clouds—

trees sport their virginal greens
still shy of the lusty
color they will show in June—

cattails and water lilies dance
with bushes arrayed in sexy pinks—

then: I see her gliding in,
a pen without her cob, leading
her cygnets to the palace ball arrayed

in white chiffon. As the Queen promenades
cattails and lilies bow and curtsy.

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