At some point all of them become Precious things made of ice And the sun beats down relentlessly The ground baptized By all that we were Are we still Without the remembrance that painted us “I AM MY NAME!” Take it on trust.
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We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me! We’re going on a duck hunt, let me tell you what we see. We are going to the river, with a bag of stale bread. Fighting off seagulls and pigeons as they hover above our heads. We will pass by the riverbanks where grasses and trees grow tall. Watching and listening to the river as it tumbles, rolls, and roars. We will see flowers of different colours. White daisies, yellow buttercups, blue cornflowers, covering the parklands in a dazzling display. My Granny says seeing the kaleidoscope of colours makes her day! We will pass by rabbits hopping about their homes of grassy mounds. Every now and then pricking up their ears; listening to every sound. We will pass by geese gathered in a gaggle. Big bottomed geese walking with a waggle. We will pass by swans gliding with their necks held high. Several young cygnets tucked in and swimming by their mums side. We will pass all these wonders of nature as we make our way to the ducks. Listening for every quack and cluck. We reach our goal with a bag of bread in-hand. Throwing the bread to the ducks who say thank you with a “quack” and a “cluck.” Before you know it, the swans are there too. Then the seagulls and pigeons “shoosh, go away you!” Ducks are the best of the lot you see. They make me laugh; I think they are funny. No particular reason but my granny says, “It is because I am only three.” We’re going on a duck hunt; just granny and me! We’re going on a duck hunt, to feed the ducks their tea.