Mallards Fly No More
Early morning
winter breeze
finds me
wading waist deep
in murky water
where
in the darkness
enticers precisely
placed wait
unwearyingly
to execute their master's
will knowing
from the easter heavens
they will come
in free flight
sounding
a characteristic note
hunting
for mates
while sun's rays rain
among trees
illuminating
hunter-green heads
poised bodies
until
a slight movement
barrel raised
twitched finger weighing
heavily on
aimed weapon
relaxes and pulls
releasing
deafening thunder
then
utter silence
scattered feathers,
Mallards fly no more.
Copyright © Wendy West | Year Posted 2013
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