Sitting waiting, waiting for the light,
anticipating the retreat of the night.
The mallards have gathered awaiting their feeding.
They always appear to be fiercely competing.
A song birds trill permeates the air,
spilling out it's chords, tender, fair.
A boisterous crow joins the conversation.
Flying to and fro with his long winded explanation.
The full moon fades tucked somewhere far away,
as...
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