The Duck

In the widow, hanging down
Was a duck: crisp, golden brown,
With the others hanging round.
How’s your day today?

No more trouble, no more strife,
No more toil and no more wife,
No more family, no more life,
How’s your day today?

On the farm where pigs were suckling,
He was then a fuzzy duckling.
Life was sweet, his Mama’s darling.
How’s your day today?

Fuzz now gone, his fine new down,
Like a stunning regal gown,
Cloaked the king without a crown.
How’s your day today?

He worked hard and built a nest.
His new wife thought him the best.
Three fine eggs were soon their guest.
How’s your day today?

Swiftly, summer days were gone.
Ducklings, too, were moving on.
Youth’s bright beams no longer shone.
How’s your day today?

Sadly nothing but illusion,
All this just a sweet delusion,
‘Midst hunting season’s raw confusion,
Life just ebbs away.

“Why?” you ask. “Why tell this tale?”
Swiftly through this earthly vale
Life sweeps past so fine and frail, so
Cherish your day today.

Stephen Tomkins
26 June 2014

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