Flying with Wings
By Silver Spun Sand
Wed, 30 Jul 2014
- 841 reads
4 comments
And still one more time they circle the pond...
my two ducks. I call them mine because, against all odds,
they were conceived, born, nurtured and grew up here.
That was but four months ago, and now, I suppose,
they’re kind of teenagers – in duck years.
Ever since I moved in, a decade since, wild mallards
have bred in my pond, but only for a day or so, as a rule,
do their chicks survive; such is the way of the weasel, the kite,
and the foxes around these parts.
Glancing up to the sound of their quacking, I see
they’re giving it another shot, wings feathering, heads
down but they overshoot...again;
Mum not at hand to give them aerobatic lessons now;
a second, late brood has seen to that.
And so it goes; for the seventh time they start their descent.
“For the love of Pete, slow down; you must come in low!”
I want to shout, for all the good it would do. Shame
I’m not conversant in ‘duck-speak’.
At last they call it off; yet another abortive attempt – disappear
above the trees toward the moor. They’ll try again tomorrow,
I’m sure, when hunger gets the better of them.
Not much difference between those birds and my brood...
I come to the conclusion, pouring myself another beer,
and waiting for one or other of them to take time
out of their busy schedules to touch base.
They’ve got wings, and know how to use them,
but landing safely...another thing.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Having wings and knowing how
Having wings and knowing how to use them to fly but not being able to safely land is a great problem. But I hope they got there. Lovely poem - it has a slightly lonely feel to it.
Bee
- Log in to post comments
Interesting scene to watch;
Interesting scene to watch; interesting application. Rhiannon
- Log in to post comments
Those beautiful ducks are so
Permalink Submitted by skinner_jennifer on
Those beautiful ducks are so lucky to have you. I so enjoyed reading your account.
Thank you for sharing Tina.
Jenny.
- Log in to post comments