Thirty Ducks Poem by Pijush Biswas

Upon the strand are thirty ducks wallowing
Coloured in thick black and white
This way and that, wildly playing
Amid the atmosphere quiet.

Nine among them are suddenly fleeting
To the still water of the pond
Are merry-making and fluttering
Being indomitable broke the bond.

Ten among the rest became restless
After the master's calls
They run towards her as they are armless
As its the beginning of rain-falls.

Now rest are in the rest
Torrential rain is about to be deep
Some are amorous, in relation the best
Crept to one another along with creep.

It seems I saw an ideal beauty
In their relations under the rain
Which lacks in human relation and duty
Which pains my sense, increases my heart's pain.

Love, union-all are abounding
Among them, within their simplicity
Those which are little read and not sounding
In human relation and generosity.