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A poem by Moyra Caldecott, from The Breathless Pause.

Leaving the pond
and the gentle water weeds
a swan rode the ocean.
At first,
because it was evening
and mirror still,
not knowing
the fathoms
of deep and restless currents
stirring beneath
its poised white weight,
it rested easily,
on smooth silver.

But then –
slowly –
it began to feel
the pull and tug of the tide,
the unfamiliar hidden strength
and secret power of the sea.
No longer resting,
it rode the water
like a challenge,
rejoiced to feel
the primal rhythm coursing
in its own small veins.

No longer satisfied
with pools
of still water,
the swan rode on,
and never left the sea.

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