Longacre Pond
This morning the ducks came back
And all during the day a raucous
Chorusing flock that floats and flies
Between one shore and the other,
Dipping and following as though
Every flutter were choreographed,
As though neither they nor this pond
Could contain such joy as they lift
And settle in a singular rejoicing.
But now, in this deepening dusk,
They drift off in twos and threes
To the silence of their separate sleep.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 571 times
Written on 2011-03-05 at 16:25
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