Home, boys, home

Photo©Tony Alter


Ducks fly home

like fighter pilots

necks craning,

wingtip to wingtip,

wheeling together

direction pond’s

glossy runway.

And in the muddy dark

of the twilit reeds

frogsong welcoming.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

10 thoughts on “Home, boys, home”

    1. Thank you 🙂 There are three mallards (don’t ask me why three) that fly across our field on the way to the pond every morning and back again at night. The farmers all have a pond so they probably spend all day visiting them 🙂

    1. Flying ducks look to me as though they are concentrating very hard on keeping aloft. Even when they quack it’s muted as though they’re saving energy. It does look as though they’ve been on a serious mission 🙂

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