Begone, Swan of All-That-Is-Not

A lagoon in Port Albion I once 

was privileged to live beside

When ripples disturb

the surface

of the sleepy lagoon

that is my life,

when skunk cabbage and stinkweed

elbow their way in

and wave their smelly fronds

in my face,

when the waters grow turgid 

and the channels clogged,

as if the pond floor has become

an uneasy agitated beast,

May I focus on

the lotus blossom

in the center,

let the ripples flow

off and away,

breathe in the peace and beauty

of the flower's waxy bloom.

May the swan of All-That-Is-Not

carry itself to the farthest bank,

making way for 

the small fuzzy ducklings 

of gratitude and serenity,

thankfulness

for All-That-Is.

A poem from December 2012, posted for the Poetry Pantry at Poets United on Sunday.