Ducks at Mud Creek

A sonnet about natural's power to sooth the strained soul.

I see brown feathers and heads of green

I see yellow beaks with webbed feet

Waddling about idle and dotting the scene

Inviting the dreamer to take a seat  

 

Life is short and simple on fall grass

The water is warmer than wind, in stream

Alas, I could never gallivant as they, alas

With eyes open, I'm with them in dreams

 

In a bubble while watching the ducks

There is my lost peace made into peace  

There is ground solid in a constant flux

Until winter, my tranquillity is obese

 

Days are short and snow drops when I look away

Onto the turbulence of duck less day    

Author's Note

This is my first try at writing a sonnet...