The Ducks

I like to walk around the pond

Watching the ducks dance

To the rhythms of a tune

I cannot hear.  I only

See the steps and hear their  calls 

As the music rises and falls.

Now a pair swooping in,

Planing to a stop like a

Water skier coming to shore.

Then perhaps a round of loud 

Quacking followed by a

Flourish of wings shaking

Away some energy or tension

In the soul.  Then again a 

Quiet swim with ducklings

Swirling around like a chorus

Of out of tune violins

That somehow manage to

End on the same note.  Don’t worry,

I’ll be back even if I am

Deaf to the song.