Winter’s River

Walking by the river
A flotilla of ducks
Claim the river
In the mist and flat light of Winter

One hundred ducks are here
Just for this moment
Scattered over the top
Of a hundred meters of river

Widgeon whistle warnings
As Chester and I approach
All of the other ducks
Must have stayed silent

I never noticed the others
Till I passed by the last of them
And heard the back-alley belly laugh
Of young mallards behind me

Their bright colors lost
In the misted raft of ducks
That floated darkly
On the silver river

Wet winter ground squishes
Under carefully placed feet
Radio warnings of heavy rain
Have not made me wet yet

As I stand here thankful to notice
The smooth perfect beauty
Of water droplets on branches
Just above me where I walk