The Ducks
THE DUCKS.
The ducks didn’t quack much that night.
They didn’t make their usual din.
Sat around that window, grooming their feathers,
I thought they were trying to look in.
Did you notice?
They weren’t looking for breadcrumbs,
Not in their normal way,
Heads cocked,
They were listening, alert,
Wondering how our silence could keep the noise at bay.
I wanted to explain it all to them,
But someone had taken all my words,
But anyway, if I was struggling to comprehend it myself,
How would I tell them? Those birds.
Copyright © Fred Clark | Year Posted 2020
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