“The Duck Pond” by Ana Richters

The rain makes a pitter-patter sound
As it splashes upon the ground.
I cover my head with my hood
As I leave the neighborhood.
Where I am headed I do not know,
But rather follow the water’s flow
As it angles down the hill
To where a pond waits quiet and still.
A few ducks waddle around the edge,
While some of their friends play in the hedge.
Still more dive into the blue pond,
Perhaps playing lost and found.
I decide to stay near the rode,
Not wanting to impose.
How happy they all seem, I think,
Knowing they will never sink.