Oh, to rest my world-weary head
on a portable thick feathered bed;
to shade my eyes from the sun’s bright glare
while absorbing all the warmth it lends to the air.
Oh, to sleep by the still mill pond
with no real responsibilities beyond
responding to the fickle April weather
with my versatile, iridescent feathers.
Oh, to dabble in the dabbling world –
to take each day just exactly as it unfurls;
to drift and chatter with a flock of friends,
floating in the water with no real end.
Oh, for the life of a simple mallard duck,
living laissez-faire and making my own luck…
As I watch them all sleeping with their heads tucked in,
I’m thinking, ‘’where do I sign up? When can I begin?’’