In The Tunnels of Time - The Swawn

well, i hope you are keeping up! This month is Tunnels of Time Month and it's all because of (possible) woodworm. (see here) - the editor

In the forest the call of the cuckoo is fading.

On the other side of the forest is the valley.

Down in the valley there is a river and alongside the river there is a town and in the town there is a market.

And me.

And a swan.

I am old, the market is older and the town is ancient.

Though not as old as the river, which flows through the times that see everything come and go.

The swan, however, is new.

She, though it may be he, arrived in the spring and us in the forest, valley and town are happy with her arrival.

Her whiteness looks out of place but perfect against the green of the forest and the grey stone of the town.

The river cradles her.

I stop to admire her as I return from the market.

She floats over and  softly says hello.

Ilook in my bag for possible food.

I throw her a broad been, it bobs under the water with its weight and then resurfaces near her.

She ripples her neck and takes the bean in her beak.

Then she lets it drop.

She doesn’t eat beans.

I throw her a strawberry, one that smelt so nice as I walked past the seller.

It bobs, it floats, she doesn’t even dain to move toward it.

She doesn’t eat strawberries no matter how sweet.

I break a corner of the sesame loaf and drop it near her, a little upstream.

She reaches for it and it is gone.

She eats bread.

I cross the river, leave the town, traverse the forest.

In the forest there is a church.

In the church is a bell and the bell rings and it’s midday.

Near the church there is a house.

In the house there is me.

I eat runner beans, strawberries, cherries AND bread.

I am not a swan.

But I wish I could fly.