She skims like a swan across the water
as fear evaporates into a dark cloud
and is blown away and scattered.
The white dresses of passing feminine time
loom in the distance, one possible
harbor on her adventures.
Yet, other paths open up and an archipelago
of unpredictable futures stretches out along
the horizon. Each stroke of the swim
Moves her closer to the bounty of her choices
but as she glides, the opposite edges of the island
chain become harder to steer toward.
Progress cuts off possibility, but still she swims,
the swan out on the sea, traversing her life
toward her awaiting destiny.
On which island will she land and how long
shall she tread upon the sea?
Swim, my swan, to destiny.