She wobbled along, the little darling on wheels.
Two wheels (which seemed to be the problem.)
Mum balanced her own bike between her legs, guiding her duckling as best she could, until at last:
there was flight.
As I strolled along behind the two,
occasionally glancing into the shedding trees,
the Mum within me hoped.
Please let the little duckling balance.
Please let the little duckling fly.
After a while, the two disappeared and I forgot the darling struggle.
Forgot the invisible cord that attached my empathy to the shake, wobble, roll.
Once again, I was lost.
Within the bliss-filled world of me,
I was lost.
Until I was no longer lost,
but right back where I began.
Face to face
with one
precious
fallen
duckling.
Everything within me wished to reach for her.
To hold her for a while.
To look into her eyes, and have her understand
that without the fall…
the true beauty of flight
would never be known to her.
Darling was the little duckling
that stole my heart on this darling day of May.
Darling was how hard she tried.
And darling was the invisible cord of life
that connected us.
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