Sunday, November 28, 2021


Alone. In a narrow slip
of open water the brook's hard work
keeps free of ice and snow,
the bufflehead sticks to itself
or its mate.

No friend
of the mallard or other ducks
they must share what scraps
of open space are available.

Separate but equal.
They prefer

the quiet places
where there is no one
to make fun of

its bloated head, the oversized
target he looks out from
at a world

distinct and difficult
as itself.

No comments:

Post a Comment