In the parking lot of
a local Supermarket
three ducks
drinking from a
puddle of rain water.
It never occurred to
me to question
the dip in the
asphalt -
I didn’t think to
ponder the weather -
My notice focused
upon the number three.
How odd, I thought, a
duck to be missing.
They are forever in
pairs -
You see a duck
and there’s another.
It’s just always that
way. Pairs of socks -
pairs of ducks.
Driving further into
town and there she was
On her own. Self-reliant, facing the World -
Quack, she went. Quack.
Perhaps divorce? They’re always messy.
Maybe a simple spat?
It could have been a
wrong turn, a miss-direction
given at some crucial
point in flight.
Quacks of Joy? A call for help? I had no way of knowing.
“Hey, they're at the
market having a drink.”
I pointed towards the
market as I drove passed her.
I don’t know - maybe I
should have stopped.
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