Waiting Games

Samuel Diener


To you, every bird’s a duck

You hold my hand, we wander

Scatter feathers with our feet.


The orchard still is green, but leaves

Are turning one by one.

The air is cold

And full of sounds of change

Ducks moving with the fall

And we are moving too.


Two ducks stand lichgate solemn on their long thin legs

Waiting for the movement of the water.

Staring at the surface of my heart, I’m watching too

Waiting games are what the ducks are born for

Waiting games are what I’m playing with your heart.


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