Swan Father

My mate has died but parenting did not end.
We all still need to be raised,
my Cygnets and I
learning to make the world our home,
together again.

I love my children the way Swans love theirs,
shepherding them,
preening them,
leading them out into the day as glorious lords and ladies of the marsh.

Circling them I weave attention's nest,
that they may thrive,
explore,
nibble,
sail the smaller eddies of childhood.

A father's love is no less a force than the tides of the world.

They will leave me some day,
I still dip down to fold laundry for my eldest and brush the youngest's hair.

The wetlands will always be filled with them.
I lead them now,
all the while practicing feeling currents without them.