Feeding the Ducks 

Birds tend to be afraid of people, but

Not the ducks that call the pond near

My house their home.

They’ve been well fed, so many

Slices of bread, they are now addicts.

Carbohydrate overload, they can

All go on diets, at least cut back a little.

They don’t stray far from the pond,

Despite the proximity to the

Alligators they share the pond with

Here in central Florida.

I watch the older men arrive every

Morning with cups of coffee, newspapers,

And bags of sliced sandwich bread.

I’m fearful of becoming one of those men

Myself, but here I am anyways,

Watching them, watching ducks.

The older I get, the less I tend to like

People in general. The ducks may feel

Like a crowd at feeding time, but they

Disperse when the bread runs out.

I asked one of the older men one morning

Why the ducks and newspapers? The coffee

I understood, I had one myself.

He said, I read the obituaries and name

The ducks after the deceased. That’s Raymond.

Stomach Cancer got him. Then he tossed

Raymond a slice, and asked me, do you

Think when I die, it would be possible for

You to come and feed me? I’m Stanley

By the way. I nodded in the affirmative.

Then Stanley suffered a major stroke just

As more ducks were coming in for a

Water landing on this wonderful pond for

Lost Souls.