Leaving Perkins Pond



Leaving Perkins Pond

Disappointed I haven’t seen any loons, 
I stand at the ring of this lake, 

say an October good-bye
after a weekend of kayaking, swimming.

As I turn away, a splash draws 
me back around. Three baby mallards dash

by me on the water. A loon races 
after them. When close enough, he lifts

his black head, puffs his white chest, 
flaps wings, spars like a prizefighter. 

The ducklings squawk, speed to their corner.
The loon gloats, proud he won this round.


Author:
Nancy Manning
On OMPJ 

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