Ambling toward me from the pond,
the ducks approach with hope,
maybe even longing,
no doubt with bread in mind.
They find me empty-handed, though.
For ducks' reasons I cannot fathom,
they gather around me, crouch,
and stay. I had never
a substitute for bread.
Still, the thought gives me comfort.
We, the ducks and I,
keep each other good company.
Poet's Notes: For many years I drove my young son to the local library to return and check out books and to sit and play in the large park surrounding the library. A huge pond was inside the park, home to many ducks. Sometimes while my son was inside the library or playing on the park grounds, I would sit on a bench and read or write. A large group of ducks would surround me and stay long after it was apparent that I had no food for them. These were always refreshing times for me. This poem comes from an amalgam of such occasions.