Tame Duck By Kenneth Kaufman

Tame Duck

By Kenneth Kaufman

There are three tame ducks in our back yard

Dabbling in mud and trying hard

To get their share and maybe more

Of the overflowing barnyard store,

Satisfied with the task they're at

Of eating and sleeping and getting fat

But whenever the free wild ducks go by

In a long line streaming down the sky,

They cock a quizzical puzzled eye

And flap their wings and try to fly.

I think my soul is a tame old duck

Dabbling around in barnyard muck,

Fat and lazy with useless wings.

But sometimes when the north wind sings

And the wild ones hurtle overhead,

It remembers something lost and dead,

And cocks a wary, bewildered eye

And makes a feeble attempt to fly.

It's fairly content with the state it's in,

But it isn't the duck it might have been.