Catholic Swans
The pair of swans along this stretch this year
Haul ten in tow.
Ten grey balls of hatchlings in a row.
Yet in a month or two, I fear
That only five remain –
As pikes and gulls and foxes thin the strain.
In the past, my ancestors would breed
The same way too –
Investing in the odds to see them through.
Famine and TB could not succeed,
For I am here today –
Yet dread how many died along the way.
For months the swans will teach their young,
But still their numbers drop –
They surely notice what they cannot stop.
Of all the ten that they’ve begun,
Just one or two will fly –
It’s no life for a parent, but they try.
Rhyming Couplets 