I was thinking about swans at first, but my thoughts wandered around until I came upon a memory of my brother.  I’m intrigued how some memories remain so clear you can walk through them as an observer.  This one is from one of our many family holidays where the car and trailer were loaded up and the family set out, stopping here and there, heading for a destination and then returning.  I don’t often remember the routes or the destinations, but I’m grateful some of these bright moments remain.

A boy standing

One summer, while trailing after
my older and bolder brother,
we came upon a city park with a pond
and two resident swans.

Of course he ran straight to the water
where the swans glided silently and
held out his hand – in friendship – although
what sister can know for certain which way
the heart of a brother will turn?

The swan had no trouble,
that black beaked head mounted
on sleek spring coiled neck shot forward
and sharply bit my brother’s hand.

Startled and I imagine now, insulted
my brother lunged to scare the swan –
who could blame him – a boy provoked
is big enough but he had no experience
with the other end of the avian arsenal,
massive webbed feet more than equal
to the task of drenching a boy leaving him
standing jawed dropped and dripping.

Some memories, a sister
can’t help but savor.

© 2016 – Laurel Archer