Feeding the Ducklings
My quaint little cottage
rests by a cool serene aqua
with rights reserved only
for my prettiest rosy bloom.
Her two little feet walk down-
wobbling like a penguin-
on the rain brushed green turf
to halt by the edge
of the soft rippling water.
She gurgles aloud
clapping her little hands
with bells on her wrists
for us to follow her trail.
Her echo I guess
is heard by the distant
mother duck busy flapping
for her ducklings to follow.
They stately glide
in a small neat file
under the chaste clouds
to meet their prattling mate.
The weeny webbed feet wobble
to my yakkity cherub
rompering around them
in her powder pink polkas.
Undisturbed comfort
runs in my veins as in unison
they peck at the grain
and bread I brought for each.
My heart melts to see the tranquility
between the twinned bird and babe
as they nibble in the summery spring
while I sit beside the balmy Jackson Lake.
April 5, 2016
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