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.)
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