ducks, compared to me

ducks, compared to me, are much more organized
they pattern themselves
submitting for miles to wing-beats in front
faces watch tail feathers and eyes never meet
friendship forgotten in the circle of sky, the same of wings, the

above scrawny oaks and the grope of mistletoe, I hear duck voices

no, I do not know what it means
do they hate or love the regimen?
I see only this: they get where they mean to go.



2 responses

  1. I didn’t know you are a poet Grace….I enjoyed reading your lines. I am also VERY fond of ducks, so can empathise with your thinking. Poems, of course, are just our words placed together….but if the order is right, what joy they bring
    Do you know this one?

    February 25, 2015 at 2:36 pm

    • I hadn’t read it before, so thanks for the link. It’s stunning!

      February 25, 2015 at 2:45 pm

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