It was dusk, wintry dusk, with a pinkish-grey sky. I was walking across Kensington Gardens from Bayswater station thinking things over.
To one side there was a small field of Egyptian geese, spaced out and grazing quietly. On the other, on the waters of the Serpentine, a rustling mass of swans were clustered: a mass of huge, beautiful white wing-feathers and long, smooth necks. As one they glided across the water to meet a squad of tall, dark suited and coated business people who may well have been from an east Asian country. Gathered in a formal, straight-backed group, they focused on the swans.
Languidly, a swan lifted its graceful head above the throng. The tallest businessman reached out and caressed it in a moment of communion that was completely astonishing. The swan rested its head gently on the man's gloved hand, almost blissful in its demeanour.
I'd thought of swans as being vicious beauties, not to be tampered with under any circumstances.
Somehow, this man had completely charmed the swan, moments of frozen time breaking nature's rules of engagement without fanfare.
I am so glad I saw this happen.
No comments:
Post a Comment