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.