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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #1989997
Ducks and ducklings.
Mama and her brood.

  Old winter’s gone, the sun is warm,
    lush greens are everywhere.
    Along the lake I take a walk
    and breathe the springtime air.

    Beyond a little limestone ledge
    I watch them swim away.
    They float like minor motorboats
    creating minor waves.

    (Lined up, away they go;
      lake ducks and ducklings
      always give me a show.
      Lined up, so apropos;
      lake ducks and ducklings
      always give me a show.)
   

    I watch them sail around the point,
    just like a naval fleet.
    Some geese abide not far away,
    but they do not compete.

    The downy fleet then turns around
    to go across the lake.
    Mother mallard and her wee brood
    meet up with papa drake.

    (Lined up, away they go;
      lake ducks and ducklings
      always give me a show.
      With grace, they seem to flow;
      lake ducks and ducklings
      always give me a show.)

   


28 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
May 5, 2014

Rhythm:
[(8-6-8-6) (8-6-8-6) (6-5-6-6-5-6); repeat]


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