Chant du Cygne by Daniel P. Stokes

Image / Karol Wiśniewski

Chant du Cygne

November is notoriously

contrary, but this delicious afternoon

I headed for the beach. You’d not suppose

that marching to the tide-edge, preceded                          

by a fifty-kilo brute buck-leaping backwards,                            

would trigger musing.                                                

But as he sniffs my pocket, woofs                                     

and circles, frantic to play fetch,                                                

I find myself by chance upon a busman’s                                       

and, scanning sea and shoreline, seek                            

an image, insight worth my while to work.                                    

But worthwhile you might argue is contingent             

for, tilting from the light, I hollow,                                    

conscious in a heart-gripe that I witness

the old year’s chant du cygne.                      

And it’s not half a pang to self from season,                                                 

from autumn’s brazen flourish                                      

to…a fresh barrage of disaffected woofs.

“We set out to make the most

of what this moment offers, 

not drag clouds that haven’t formed

across the sun. Now, for both our sakes,

refocus on the game plan.

And throw the bloody ball.” © Daniel P. Stokes

Daniel P. Stokes

Daniel P. Stokes has published poetry widely in literary magazines in Ireland, Britain, the U.S.A., Canada, and Asia, and has won several poetry prizes.  He has written three stage plays which have been professionally produced in Dublin, London, and at the Edinburgh Festival.

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