Across the Post Road
I watch not my driving but
Two ducks unison
Flap-flap-flapping–
They break the
Cycle of wild movement
And slip into
A glide, dropping together
Into some secret nook of
Water and reeds between
Strip mall and
On ramp.
Writer. Demand Poet.
Across the Post Road
I watch not my driving but
Two ducks unison
Flap-flap-flapping–
They break the
Cycle of wild movement
And slip into
A glide, dropping together
Into some secret nook of
Water and reeds between
Strip mall and
On ramp.