Where Do the Ducks Go?

My take on Holden's timeless question... written for a "migrations" assignment

A young man once asked

a cab driver in a troubled voice,

“Where do the ducks go

in the wintertime?”

 

Call me ignorant.

Call me out on my simplicity,

but similar thoughts have crossed my mind.

 

You shake your head at me,

rolling your stormy blue eyes.

You tell me they fly south

just like the robins and the geese.

 

But, as you sit there

with a smug smile on your lips,

I can’t help but wonder

about the last one to hatch--

the runt of the bunch that struggled

to free itself from its warm white enclosure.

 

I can’t help but think

of the yellow ball of fluff

that still waddles behind its mother,

watching wide-eyed from the ground

while its brothers take off into the horizon.

 

Where do the ducks go

when the pond freezes over?

 

Where do we go when

the icy wind is at our faces,

and we’re not sure if we can fly? 

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

Indeed, where do they go, a most light and elegant piece, well done, good read.

[L]

I love the way you write, it's so real and unpretentious. Simple, yet insightful and enjoyable to read.