Swansong

A grisly fowl faltered as it breached my open door, so I rose up from reading to its aid. Seeping tears of languishing put spots upon my floor. The swan's sweet farewell melody was made and I, in haste, collected him. The feathers dressed my den. If I was ever to stop and wonder this walk was surely when. Through the window I could see the sheet of sifting rain sweeping in the sloping foothill lights. Angst came short repose and seeded doubt inside my brain. I settled for my dreams to fool the night. From swan to beast I reckoned thus, and called my lives absurd, for when I was content to pause, some God gave me a bird.