Pattern Makers (Poem, 1970)
- billsheehan1
- Feb 15, 2021
- 1 min read
Their buoyant splendor, like swans on ice,
Their movements so velvety, so precise,
With silver blades upon their feet,
Eyes in awe from such a feat.
My eyes lie helpless in my face,
While witnessing their swan-like grace.
The aesthetic rhythm of their flight,
Floods my senses with chilling delight.
They leave a skillful trail behind,
Of artistic patterns upon my mind.
Figurative lines of the whitest shades,
Drawn on the ice with silver blades.
They seldom ever slip or slide,
Having mastered the ice with pride.
The sun reflects off blades so cold,
And now they float on blades of gold.
If I could have a bird’s-eye view,
I would gladly exhaust every sinew
To observe the swan-like pattern makers,
Whom people say are simply ice-skaters.
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