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When Swans’ Fly Home

Some things you expect to see,
For you know they are to be there,
Others however can play hide and seek,
With your mind, and yet still ensnare,
You when you are unknowing,

I look upon the meadows and my joys are renewed,
Lazy hazy days are again arriving,
Gently caressing my thoughts and refreshing my dour mood,
For once more do l look upon the approaching spring,
With a pleasure unbeknownst to me for some time,
Yet l ask myself, when l knew of the eventual return,
Why does it puzzle me this way, this time?

How many seasons need to pass before one learns?
Perhaps, it is different, because l am familiar,
With her ways, through time l have learned to trust,
And yet oh how l have missed her,
Now, she arrives to my mind again in coloured canvas,

Pastures again are full in flourish, awaiting your gentlest of rays,
Whilst l too, seek solace from the passing.
Of time and feel the warming embrace felt from your days,
Helping to ease away my longest of aching,
That the wintry seasons can bring to a lonesome man,
Who has looked out onto fields of desolation,
Trying to understand, oh to simply understand,
Why he did not see beforehand, this confusing emotion,

Yet who am l to question the passing of the seasons,
All l know to be true,
Is that spring again is here, and with it the new ripening,
Of time from out of the lazy hazy blue,

Some things you expect to see,
For you know they are to be there,
Others however can play hide and seek,
With your mind, and yet still ensnare,
You when you are unknowing,

When l see swans flying,
I think of you.

© Rory Matier 2015