Christine Phillips | + Follow Poet |
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The Last Duck

I just got in from the sweltering heat
With anxiety trickling down my feet
something  kept beckoning me to go for a ride
so I obeyed the spirit and went back outside
I grabbed my bike and speed down the street
Tired exhausted and dead beat
I rode under the nearby trees
to dodge from the fiery heat
I glanced over the nearby bush 
and something gave me a sudden push
Alas the message was sitting inside
and the answer was wrapped up underneath the bush
I parked my bike and hurried down the hill
because I just couldn't keep still
something was  swirling in the the stagnant pond 
and it caught  my attention
A flock of ducks swam towards me
looking sad deserted and lonely
Their droopy heads swinging to and fro
Not knowing which way to go
They held down their tired head
I really thought that  they were dead
No cluck no sound they  were  just swimming around
They swam towards me but I had nothing to give them
Twenty five  ducks swimming without a sound
Just disseminating misery all around
They swam in line in the middle of the pond
looking for somewhere to land  
They  were all heading towards the East
But three broke out of the  pack 
before the journey was complete
They swam slowly toward me and politely saluted me.
Way over the other side something magnificent resides
A duck with a different color was hiding under the bush
The white duck came out of the bush looking  bruised and  battered
worn out and sad it toddled across the stagnant pond
and swam in  the opposite direction until it reached dry land
I watched it limped out of the water looking confused and ramshackle
It limped on the grass towards the West
While the others headed East
This symbolism was so profound
It carries a heavy  burden all around
The white duck separated  from the pack
is limping around the globe and spreading
melancholy all over.

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