Tas in March
White on dark water, so stark
I leave my binoculars behind
and watch with bare red eyes
two swans, taut with sexuality,
stretching their necks
alternately side by side.
They are early: colour is
still to come to bone-dry rushes
and trees bank black strangling
their green. It is a hard wedding:
sharp brambles and ivy-covered
stumps hunch and hug;
sleet pokes the surface from
a blank neutrality, to come back
spitting with all its mouths.
Roused, the spread wings
beat their own storm towards
the north, wind against wind.
Somewhere in all this a small
heat is held, like the hope
of a cold man drowning.
Edwin Brock's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Tas in March by Edwin Brock )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)