Dabbling

Poem for Intermediate Creative Writing, spring 2015. The difference between the calm facade and the turbulence underneath, whatever the situation may be, is fascinating. An innocuous poem, or is it?

A duck sits on the peaceful lake,

the surface acting like quicksilver,

its ripples like tsunamis to

little, skittering water boatman.

 

Clouds luxuriate against the

cerulean backdrop, the wind

whispering to the emerald trees,

the grasses giggling to each other.

 

The duck quacks softly to itself,

musing as it swims round and round.

Spotting some weeds that weave to and

fro, it dabbles down to snag the leaves.

 

Its feet paddle furiously

as its lean neck stretches downward.

Bobbing to the surface, breathing

once more, feet still sculling like mad.

 

One gulp, one breath, one final shake,

the turbulence caused underneath

vies for control over the calm

façade.  A final fluff of feathers.

 

Adamantine teardrops roll off

of oily plumage, falling to the

water below, the silken mirror

now greatly perturbed.  The duck

 

wonders if  it should return

to the tumultuous depths.  Its

feet constantly churning beneath,

while all else is as calm as the lake.