The ducks are jaywalking again crossing the road with waggles like autumn’s first blush of yellow I can’t tell the kids what do anymore I wind down the window “quarrrrrrk” I croak They ignore me not just like we speak different languages but like my voice is intrinsic to the day and needs no extra attention My pre-teen has learned to glare Late afternoon tips its long-beaked cap, pulling shadows like reeds across strips of sundance yellow all the while storm brows thicker than mayhem buffet the upper sky Apparently 9pm is an unreasonable bedtime There’s nothing humble about these autumn evenings sheets of colour framed in pig-iron dark and a shameless breeze cock-eyed and feather-fondling. The ducks are jaywalking again
Ducks Crossing
Published
Out of the Cave 
This is just adorably fun.
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❤️ Thanks!
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No use talking to the ducks, they probably think you are quackers any way 😂
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LOL. They’re not the only ones!
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funny and beautiful at the same time with a dash of domestica; a little gem:’the ducks are jay-walking again’ : what a fab opening 🙂
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Thanks John! Glad you liked it. 🙂
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This is wonderful.
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Thank you!
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