ducklings
when I was a boy
briefly we kept two ducklings
in a pen in our suburban backyard
somehow father knew when and where to set them free
years later we looked out back
to see two ducks waddling across the lawn
so strong is the urge to return home
5/17/8
becoming
leaves wait
embryonicly whorled
in thirsty buds
except for one light shower
there has been no rain in two weeks
sunlight warms unborn life
naked treetops sway
wind lullabys through empty branches
the pond is down and brown as the duck that lands on it
I would trade my becoming for being
5/17/8
