Canto CCLV

The teenage boys around the local pond
aren’t throwing rocks at ducks as they appear,
they’re trying to make some little waves to send

their football back to dry land, though they never
anticipate the tiny little gusts
that drag it further out, if they could leave

the ball to nature maybe it would just
wash back towards them in its own sweet time
and it is their sheer impatience that casts

their quarry further out. This clumsy rhyme
could be a parable on letting nature
take its noble course—cast a slack line

and leave it all to fate—but homely pastures
grow thick on buried bones where earthworms feast.
All toys must one day drift off from their masters.

Sometimes the terrapins eat baby geese.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    May 14, 2012 @ 09:52:35

    I like the way this poem sticks with its theme and builds on it, getting stronger and darker as the poem progresses. I think it’s a 50/50 game, fate and free will are hopelessly entwined and there are a multitude of possible outcomes.

    Terrapins are nasty vicious creatures.

    Reply

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