Swan

The tickle of soft waves
strokes my white feathers
as I swing my feet back and forth,
the force of water
pressing against them.

The sound of my bevy
quietly calling.

The sound of human children
laughing on the bank in excitement.

Cool grass on my feet
and another sound;
a fox ever cornering.

© Iman Begum
With kind permission from the poet and First Story

appears in Some Sort of Joy: Foyle Young Poets of the Year Anthology


Resource: Urban Spaces

A resource from the lovely people at First Story