Foot-Tapping at Huffnagle Park

There is nothing better than the shade
when you must sit alone and contemplate;

accompanied by the breeze and ducks
squawking mossy beaks and waddling amok

around the edges of the swiftly running run,
pecking at bramble still naked in their dun

skin of winter wool. With spring’s certain misrule
I concur, a fool sanguine and sideline cool

watching rain lash and scorching sun devoid
of care for Eden’s blooms. Unemployed.

That’s the word, the harsh rub. When the work comes
I’ll still be thinking of these noisy ducks,

their delinquent air and awkward gait
as I sit alone and contemplate. 

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