I worked all through the Winter,

on my Swan, then it got dashed in water,

a cruel joke from some playmate or other,

sadly it didn't float, but neither even would 

my flimsy boat (one would imagine).

Trouble was the books were too old,

too fusty, specialised;

I grabbed them from the library eager

only to arrive back home and within five minutes

had lost patience...

content instead to watch

the rain, then with a turn in mood stroll down to the park,

then watch the cygnets, on the pond, learn first

and ask questions later, preening themselves

on the further bank, in the fog

of a youthful summer.