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My Life as a Duck
Walking, walking, walking ...
my little wet feet splat on the surface of the ground as it goes from muddy to dry and back ... my tail wiggles as I waddle curiously on dry land,
and I note how this small back & forth movement seems kin to the soft up & down on the water ...
Moving, moving, moving ...
my bouncy little mind splats and taps on the sensations of subjects that flit in and out of view ... my facial muscles move and limbs twitch involuntarily in response to the ebb & the flow ... and I note, curiously, the joy of this ride,
and its perplexing relationship to the space in between its movements ...
What is happening between each squelch in the mud?
Hmm ... something about water ...
and a drop realizing it is in the ocean, and it is also the ocean ... ?
Can a feather on a duck realize it's true nature?
— Lucy L.
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