Marian Homer Painter '50


The Swan in Snow

A black cloth covers the sun
            Across black waters comes
                        a swan floating—a slim and delicate

angel with a feathery white dress.
            She moves
                        as if Time didn’t exist

trailing her elaborate webbed feet
            and lo—three baby swans
                        all the color of cinnamon

The marsh a dull mustard found only in
            the darkest corner of my mind.
                        Big snow flakes fall, but

the swan swims joyously
            enjoying each cool soft snow drop,
                        plunges her long neck

into the darkness of the pond.
            She trembles
                        shakes her white feathers.

From utter darkness comes lights’ snow field
            How the sky flares
                        snow grows brighter all the time,

as if beauty were an absolute
            in the dark unchanging depths
                        of light.