The Ducklings 1982 - 1983

They are dancing
Playing on the water
Lifting up, they run atop it
Churning a pinwheel of spray
Ruffling their mad spurts
They chase each other round silly
They thunder after their mother
They scatter into the pickerel weed like a sudden breeze
Where they lurk in shady safety

It is quiet and wild here
We watch them while we cast
Playing

A common phenomenon
And privilege too
When another mother’s children
Will play with scant concern
Under the delighted gaze of strangers.