She asks me, in The Swan, br Whether I have figured out what beauty is for br Whether I have changed my life, br This Mary Oliver, br This woman I do not even know. br br Where does she get off br Probing me like this br Seeking of me something more br Seeking of me depth of soul br Seeking of me careful thought. br br One swan br Lifting off from the cool bed br In which she floated the night away br Becomes beauty incarnate br Drips diamonds from her flight br Melts into the day’s calling sun br Like Icarus clothed in his father’s wings br So long ago, br But this time, this one time, br This one swan br Does not fall to earth br This one swan continues on br Until her beauty is but a memory.