Who am I?
My name is PaulYou can usualy find me online on saturdays, Kind of busy during the week.
I am in my late teens.
I exist only on Gaia.
I live in shadow
I exist in the dark corners
I may not be who you think I am...
White Road with Swan
I drove the back road because I wanted to see the swans in the snow. Snow
had fallen in the night, a light dusting easier to sweep than shovel.
It felt like a gift sent from someplace else,
intended for just this windless morning.
There were two swans, most likely a mated couple. I had seen them all winter,
drifting on the human pond or twisting their long necks to clean,
or dozing on their own hammocks of brown-gray water
in the lull of an afternoon.
At times I found them neck down, heads submerged into the stagnant water,
feeding or avoiding one another. I liked watching the limber of their long
necks, the wide wings they preened but never used. The swans
became less delicate, less white the more I watched.
I could not tell the male from female.
The white road reminded me of Helen whose name goes back to the child
of a woman and a god disguised as a swan. Helen who lost her mate
last summer. When she told me of the heart attack, she said he was
working in the garden, doing what he loved. Helen who is not
swan alone but also bear. And once I saw a snowy
owl fly into her, and then back out.
Driving the white road slowly to the swans that morning felt like my long ago.
I was good but could not do what was asked of me. The rattle of chains,
the scrunch of dry snow under wheels, anticipating the blow
of snow, the wind, the gates ajar of January.
I came to their curve but could not find them. I searched the gentle mallards
in their places. As if the dull pond were breathing, a mist rose where
the swans had ridden the winter. I searched the crusted sedge.
Maybe the swans thought this world was white enough
now a touch of snow had fallen.
Laurie Kutchins
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-____-
know what I mean?
taylordoom
she is hawt