The Duck Whisperer

duck whisperer 

He can be found on a bench by the pond

The man with the soft eyes, a ready smile

And a bag holding kernels of corn

He sits and watches his universe

Not the other one of traffic jams, of rushing cars,

Of chaos personified we’ve come to accept

Watches the animals converse

Mallards, owls, turtles, vermillion flycatchers

Counts the ducklings hiding in shrubs and cottonwood spears

Along the banks of this tiny pond

An oasis in a world of chaos and noise

A pond no one cares about and few remember

He comes daily with the bag of kernels

Tossing corn gently so as not to disturb their trust or hearts

We wonder those that don’t understand

Wonder why

Why would a man capable of playing golf

Or tennis, hockey or baseball

Why would he show up at daybreak

To count baby ducklings and commune with God

So the next time you are driving down Craycroft

In the heart of a little city called Tucson

Glance to the East at dawn

Legend has it before Tucson

There was a Fort Lowell hospital

Where soldiers brought their wounded

When Tombstone was a town

Where cowboys had shoot outs

And men really died

*For a very special man named Fred, who is admired by so many of us who love this little park and all its creatures.

 Thanks Sara. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.   Fred

All rights reserved.  ©2010 by Sara Fryd

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