Among the other wildlife that abounds in my suburb, there are many many ducks. I love seeing them on my walks, and out my front window, though I’m less keen on seeing them when I’m driving. I have to admit it puzzles me that they insist on walking on roads, when they could fly! Fortunately, most drivers slow down and give them to cross.
Anyway, because it’s Poetry Friday, and because I’ve been thinking a lot about these ducks, here’s a favourite duck poem, from Ogden Nash, and a favourite duck photo that I took a while ago.
The Duck
by Ogden Nash
Behold the duck.
It does not cluck.
A cluck it lacks.
It quacks.
It is specially fond
Of a puddle or pond.
When it dines or sups,
It bottoms ups.

What I love about this poem is that, like so much of Nash’s verse, it makes me smile. The humour in the choice of rhyme, and the duck-like flow of the short sharp lines never fails to bring a grin.
Poetry Friday today is hosted at The Logonauts. There you will find links to lots of other poetry goodness.
The good news Is, it won’t make everybody cry. It really won’t. But, if you are six years old, and your own father is a FIFO worker, and has just flown back to work, and then your teacher shares the book with you, you might cry because you empathise with Tiger, the boy in the book. You might cry because the book has given you permission to admit that it’s hard seeing Dad leave after a spell at home. You might cry because, like Tiger, you decided to be brave when Dad said goodbye, but now that he’s gone you want to admit that you wish he didn’t have to.
It’s been a big week for me – with the release of