Ducks
A flotilla of breadcrumbs
Released from the small fingers of our children
Into the frigid, gelatinous pond
The cold steel morning reflection more solid than liquid
They dropped, creating circles
That dissipated out
Small splashing tremors
Rings intersecting rings
Venn diagrams of motion dissipating
Waves disappearing with time and distance
into the whole
Our children were small, concentric circles then
Sharing the epicenter of us
Before they expanded and faded into other lives
Feeding ducks once more important than diode light and texts
They awaited the kaleidoscope of ravenous prismatic heads
Delighted at feathered ships silky through water
A flock racing to genuflect before tiny deities
conferring gluten benediction
The Gods squealed
Ripping off chunks of bread
Thrown soft and white into thirsty water
Falling between the cracks
Of temporary, gliding beggars
Creating ripples
That would expand all too quickly
Then fade away
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