There were a number of ducklings on the pond this morning. Is there any baby more cute than a duckling? One family of four was still egg-sized and shaped. They bobbed and frantically paddled after the mom. They bumped their tiny bills up against a rock, little feet churning. Their brown fuzz was vaguely marked with yellow. Soon their necks will elongate and the legs will grow a little stronger. They will have that look of the surprised young duck as their heads swivel to and fro.

I am drawn to the duck. Their feather colors thrill me. The sound of their wings and voices while flying reminds of something that I may never be able to remember. I wish I could put my head under my wing and stand on one leg in solidarity with them.

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