Were there roosters in the yard
crowing their dawn clichés
I could not pretend to
keep you here a moment more;
but the ducks, well,
the ducks quack and the drakes
mumble and they rearrange
their feathers and nests
throughout the night,
pairing and separating at will.
It is 3am, or 4.30
or midnight; dark at least
and not yet time for you to leave.
It is summer – the nights are short
and surely we have time to spare.
Somewhere in the world
an alarm clock does its duty,
but not here, not now.
Listen! The ducks have ceased
their fussing and settled
back into restful sleep.
Later they will assemble
at the gate, begging for breakfast,
their night over – there will be
business to conduct:
splashing and preening,
dabbling and laying;
but not yet, not now.
Published by Muse-Pie Press, 2012
1 comment:
I like it, Laurice.
Post a Comment