I was walking down the bike path
between Poultney and Castleton on a hot summer day.
It used to be a railroad track,
passing through fields, forest and bog.
There behind an old derelict farm,
right up against the raised path,
was an old beaver pond.
And in the middle of the pond
There was a small island
that used to be the beaver lodge.
And on the island
stood a white, one-legged duck.
I stopped and looked at the duck, which held my gaze,
it was so beautiful!
I wished it a good day.
I stopped again on the way back to my car.
It hadn’t moved perceptibly...
For the rest of this new poem by ThisCantBeHappening!’s poet-in-residence Gary Lindorff, please go to:www.thiscantbehappening.net/node/3473 [1]