I'll Never be a Swan

Golden Corn

Green Oats

Haystacks Piled up in the Meadows

All is beautiful.

One egg is yet to hatch,

Mother waits patiently

As babies peep

The world is so big

And they are so small.

Finally the shell is broken

The Ugly Duckling sees the world.

His mother is proud,

He is a good swimmer,

As good as all the rest.

The rest of the barnyard?

Not so much.

“He is so big and ugly”

“We don’t want him here”

The words sting.

The Ugly Duckling flies away

Hurt and confused.

White birds,

So majestic, strong, beautiful

Everything he’s ever wanted to be.

Maybe,

Just maybe,

He will grow up to be a swan.

His reflection rippling in the water of the pond,

The Ugly Duckling stares and stares

Wishing and hoping.

None of this does any good.

He thinks of the words of his mother.

She was proud of him.

He was a good swimmer

A kind soul.

Proud and confident.

It didn’t matter what the other ducks said.

Over time he learned

To be proud of what he saw

On the surface of his pond.

He flew back to his barnyard.

The words no longer stung

But ran across his back

Like droplets of water.