Wednesday, May 30, 2007

Knowing When, to Duck

Wooden duck on the porch
knows nothing of rain, or
cares of daily life
stands silently
with watchful look
beside the clock

years pass, unnoticed
until at final quack
of somebody or other
out it goes
unwatching eyes
draw one last bead

6 comments:

J. Andrew Lockhart said...

There's a real depth in this.

floots said...

i can visualise a slightly weather-beaten decoy
and i agree with andrew
there's a lot here about mortality and our own insignificance
good one

Pat Paulk said...

Ditto the "quackers" above!!

polona said...

deep and melancholy...
yes, i concur with the genlemen above :)

steve said...

andrew, floots, pat & polona - thank you - I'll see if I can add a photo of this duck - it'll depend on being able to access a computer that is getting heavy homework use these days.

Annie Wicking said...

I just bought my mother a wooden duck so I have my own picture of one.
I real love this poem, it's wonderful.

best wishes

Annie