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
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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6 comments:
There's a real depth in this.
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
Ditto the "quackers" above!!
deep and melancholy...
yes, i concur with the genlemen above :)
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.
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
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