Duckweed Days

Sea of green

Duckweed days...

Slimey, childlike monsters grow-
From swimming to and fro

Plastic instagramed fake
What happened to the organic days?

Deadwood's a float
To create a home or a perfect perch
Turtles come up to burp.

Stop on that log,
Soak up the setting sun.
Kayaks don't run.

Let the paddling stop.
The racoon stumbles home,

Where does the blue heron go?

Glide alone this lake's finger
Somehow the water plays it's own, symphony.

Fisherman's cast.
Along with me...
Dropped in that paddle,
Once again.
Hearts settled,
Grounded in the stream.

Of life..
Let's make a home
where the bull frogs
Declaration of perfection
May be

Under, that duckweed.

Reviews

[Lyn Anderson]

I miss catching frogs and moat building ... lost art for the internet generation ...

[Coyote Poetry]

I liked the feel of memory. Funny how odd things will stay with us. I liked the use of the good description. Allow the reader to know the duckweed. Thank you Bacchus for shairng the amazing poetry.
Coyote

[KCthelastboyscout]

Funny how some unlikely details of our life we connect to. not familiar with "duckweed" but maybe some time later in my life I'll discover some and remember this poem fondly

[Relic]

On the face of this, it is a serene scene you paint. Comfortable, and quiet. Somehow as I read it over and over again, I realize this could be metaphoric for various personalities. And the Duckweed? I don't know. Masks, good self-esteem, spiritual connection somehow? Just a thought.

[Onlyme]

Poetic beauty observed in this amazing majestic story telling of sheer delight. To sit back and read. And imagine in my own mind's eye.

[Bacchus]

Thank you Dee. Wonderful to make new connections here. When we can back and imagine, we've done something right with our write

[Onlyme]

That is so very true, looking forward to reading more from you.😊