Walking towards the pond and I see the swans.  They are grazing on the clover, heads bowed and slowly moving along; absorbed in their task.  They look up and start to walk towards me, heads held high and the cygnets letting out whistling sounds as they gather together and move in unison.  They are gentle creatures, yet powerful and determined.  I reach the small bench by the jetty and they gather round me looking for food and Mrs Swan starts to make short throaty sounds as she taps my knee.  Each time I reply she makes another sound and a reciprocal conversation takes place.  She turns her head and looks at me and I can see myself reflected in the darkness of her eyes.  It is a calming moment and her cygnets settle.  As she stands there I find myself telling her about my day.  Then we both become silent as she starts to preen, still standing by me.  I feel a gentle tapping on my back and realise that Mr Swan is there.  He is silent, never talking, and once I turn he too settles, neck curved and head tucked under a wing.   All I can hear is the wind rustling through the reeds and the occasional soft whistle from one of the cygnets.  My mind settles and quietens.