From afar, a silvery flair prances among engrossed greenery,
On closer inspection, ripples jitter like creases in sheets.
Dabbling ducks babble in bubbles,
Carving mazes through protruding sedges
And dozing willows.
Meadowsweets bow low, with every flapping splash,
While flabby lily-pads sizzle slothfully, before
Blending their swollen selves together
As the chatting cavalcade of quacks swaggers past.
Strapping oaks, with brandishing branches
That trash the rippling sheets
Cease as the feathered company waddles near.
From stickly swords to open arms,
The oaks float the quacks to safety,
Away from my gaze.
The quacks fade into summer’s haze
As they follow the yawning glow.
I slink away,
Unable to feel the soft slush circle my webbed feet,
Unable to feel the sinking warmth on my beak.