Carried Up Above The Crowds

A swan moves in a murmur then takes-off First, she glides on a millpond gracefully Next, she parts the waters into a trough In that, moment very ungracefully, But the next, thrust like a dagger dripping She plunges headfirst into the waiting clouds. What must it be like to be there sipping- That thin air carried up above the crowds On motorways never, having queued Or been brushed aside; by some loud-mouthed louts. Finding openings clear with certitude Flight paths, into the heavens azure, sky Pilot destiny, "what's to edify".