The exercise:
Def Poetry Jam Friday is taking a well deserved holiday break. It will be back in the new year, but for now the countdown keeps on keeping on: seven swans a swimming.
Mine:
I sat on the park bench watching the family of swans float serenely in the murky waters of the pond. Their pure white feathers were such a contrast against the mud brown waters in which they swam. I wondered how they could stand to be in such filth.
A family took a break from their afternoon walk to admire the scene. Their young boy stepped to the water’s edge and stared silently - struck dumb by their beauty, I hoped. He couldn’t have been more than five.
The father allowed him a few minutes before calling him back in German. They had places to go, people to see, things to do. I sank deeper into the bench and continued my vigil, glad to be free of obligations on my European adventure.
The swans continued to float, I remained in my seat, and we spent a happy afternoon in silent companionship.
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In the spirit of the holiday season, I'll leave you with a spoken word performance of a different sort.
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