Two ducks bob in the rainy pond
One fat and white, one dappled brown
Their duck-eyes fixed on each other
Nestled in complacent young love.
Crumpled russet brown leaves whirl round
Caught up in a moment of flight,
Before being dropped and trampled
In the slushy brown Autumn mud.
The moment makes the rain less cold.
And I know that in the keys lost,
Dress stained, fridge empty, deadlines missed,
Card refused, hangover, broken-heart day -
That as long as there are still ducks
So long as there are ducks,
There will be no apocalypse.
If you have any comments on this poem, Sorrel Wood would like to hear from you.