For a moment let’s not consider
the beauty of the mallard
paddling, paddling on the lake.
Overlook her irridescent shawl
shimmering green like a silk kimono;
ignore her resplendent composure
as she drifts in spendor
like Cleopatra’s barge.
Disregard her breast, chestnut hued,
a mahogony bib,
and think nothing of her hind-feathers
like soft gray cummulus clouds.
Concentrate instead on the wake,
the silver trail left behind
as she’s paddling, paddling on the lake.
Take note of reflections,
the expanse of water, the trees,
bordering the water. The sky—
and its reflection.
Now, close your eyes
and consider the beauty
of the bird itself
Bill: there is something so sensuous, so seductive about this piece, aside ffrom the obvious beauty of the images. Wonderful! Thanks (I needed that) Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Lovely poem, sir. I liked the ending all the more than any other. Beautiful images with originality. Keep writing! ! Regards, N.D.