At times, in this grove,
Wild ducks wander by.
Waddling and posing
With tourists bustling by.
Some come for tulips
That sprout mid January,
Some come to feed ducks
Leftover crusts from their bread.
When mid-summer heat
Comes beckoning in,
Ducks make like rabbits
And scoot to cool ponds,
Where bugs and beetles
And minnows and reeds
Grow with abandon
In the glorious green.
Long sweeping willows
Tickle edges of the pond
With leftover foliage
Drifting on and again.
So summer to autumn
Leaves flowers drooping on,
Squirrels busying stores
For the onslaught of snow.
Freezing and dusting
Elements of the sky
To a mountain so high,
Silently sleeping,
Awaiting the thaw.