A Trumpeter Swan

a kasen renku by Michael Dylan Welch and Jerry Kilbride

a trumpeter swan

      its neck curled

against the cold mdw

branches whiten

in gathering snow   jk

the first aphid

      on a wild rose . . .

shadows deepen mdw

the mauve surface of the lake

holds a star’s reflection   jk

a dog’s bark—

      the moon rises

            over apple boughs mdw

lunar seas

and patterns on the grass   jk

the hoot

    of the owl

hollows the night jk

with the breeze

bees change flowers   mdw

shiloh battleground

reenactment bugle calls

echo and echo jk

pitch black—the blind man

tells the shape of the cave   mdw

he speaks of ancients

the campfire reflected

in his eyes jk

left by rain-drenched swings,

a pin-hole camera   mdw

childhood playmates

holding the negative

up to the sky jk

before we kiss,

two moons in your eyes   mdw

the curtains balloon . . .

folds in the bedsheet

are still jk

through the spinnaker’s shadow,

the rush of sea   mdw

a fading rainbow,

a bougainvillea branch

borne in the white scud jk

saved from burnt timbers

the family tree   mdw

turning the first loam

with a new spade . . .

the bend in the gardener’s back mdw

cast aside, the curved rib

of some long-dead animal   jk

the phone rings—

holding

a box of old letters mdw

a twist of her wedding band

as the answer is faxed   jk

the lost chess piece

      turns up

in the Monopoly box mdw

fred sings “we’re in the money”

ginger dances on a dime   jk

lint in his pockets . . .

      the other boys

      buy candy mdw

the maple trees tapped,

snow outlines the rims of pails   jk

after last call,

making five Olympic rings

with a wet glass mdw

throughout the night

the flame from hand to hand   jk

protest march—

a trail of moonlit ants

under the barricade mdw

rain pocks the waif’s face

on the Les Miserables poster   jk

bakery

the scent of new growth

through the window jk

alpine meadow—

a patch of lupine swaying   mdw

an updrafted eagle . . .

looking back once more

at the peak we climbed jk

two shades of prairie grass

meet along the fallen-down fence   mdw

fog blown from poppies

     san francisco

          finally in sight jk

through the open window

a seed blows in   mdw