Five ducks are standing
on a narrow strip of concrete
designed to ease boats into the water.
They have their backs to me;
even so, at the sound of my steps,
they slide into the lake.
A moorhen rises up and
onto the concrete.
She raises the dark wedge of her tail
and shits a neat soft gleaming pile
then steps towards me
small yellow beak leading the way
like a dainty beacon. I yearn
for things to be so simple:
eat, shit, swim, sleep.
She’s plump and round and her tail
lifts and falls erratically as she walks,
head to one side:
Have you brought food?
Now there is only the moorhen
& the sweet shell of mind and body
watching. The hen dives into the lake and
emerges inside a soft cage of overhanging willows.