Ducks on a Pond: A Short Poem
Inspired by the ducks on the pond outside of my home office window.
At sunrise I awake and take my first stride, I see my fellow waterfowl on the other side. On the surface it appears a smooth easy glide, a ripple that makes a small but mighty tide.
I’m ferociously paddling underneath, looking cool and calm is my protective sheath. My mind is racing, a war being waged in my head. Stories I’ve contrived, catastrophizing what’s ahead.
The world isn’t what I imagined it to be, there are hunters, disasters and disease after me. What if my webbed feet don’t leave their mark, what then will I become when the world goes dark?
Maybe it’s enough to be my friend, says my mallard mate, upon reaching the other end. What if we do what we can and try our best? At the end of each day, forget the rest.
There’s something about what she says that sticks, it’s like a God given gift to pull me out of this mucky mix. A friend I can be, and we’ll do it together, I see.
When we lose our way and get tangled amongst the weeds, remember that the greatest gift is being somebody that somebody needs. To love, to learn and help others fly. To take care of each other, be there when we cry.
Maybe all that’s required is that we don’t run and hide. We step up and out of the pond, enjoy the ride. The sunset is a smattering of pinks, purples and blues, but I now know we can paint the world any color we choose.