Taunton River in December
By Steven Withrow
Geese are eating day-old bread
From children’s winter-mittened fists.
These ganders, intermittent guests,
If anything, are overfed,
For it’s ducks we’ve come to stuff
With crusts of dough. In rills of slop
That spill above the river top,
Grass blades touched with feather-fluff
Skitter like mice beneath our boots
Beside begging waterfowls
Which trail us, intimate as owls,
Nipping tails of our snowsuits.
Greenhead mallard and his brown
And unrelenting hen advance
Orange feet, a feasting dance
One only meets this far from town.
By Steven Withrow
Geese are eating day-old bread
From children’s winter-mittened fists.
These ganders, intermittent guests,
If anything, are overfed,
For it’s ducks we’ve come to stuff
With crusts of dough. In rills of slop
That spill above the river top,
Grass blades touched with feather-fluff
Skitter like mice beneath our boots
Beside begging waterfowls
Which trail us, intimate as owls,
Nipping tails of our snowsuits.
Greenhead mallard and his brown
And unrelenting hen advance
Orange feet, a feasting dance
One only meets this far from town.
© 2012 Steven Withrow, all rights reserved
3 comments:
Love the personalities waddling to the forefront here... brings back memories of feeding ducks with my kids, and of being a kid feeding ducks with my own parents and grandparents!
Delightful turns of phrases, as always: "winter-mittened fists" followed by "intermittent guests" - and then "feather-fluff" and "feasting dance" - so many senses come out to play. Thank you for sharing!
Your close observation has paid off!
One trip with students to Mexico, we were in a 'feast' of many birds & your 'feather-fluff, skittering like mice' called up that experience. Your images are lovely, photos themselves.
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