Ducks Two ducks bob in the rainy pond One fat and white, one dappled brown Their duck-eyes fixed on each other Nestled in complacent young love. Crumpled russet brown leaves whirl round Caught up in a moment of flight, Before being dropped and trampled In the slushy brown Autumn mud. The moment makes the rain less cold. And I know that in the keys lost, Dress stained, fridge empty, deadlines missed, Card refused, hangover, broken-heart day - That as long as there are still ducks So long as there are ducks, There will be no apocalypse. Sorrel Wood If you have any comments on this poem, Sorrel Wood would like to hear from you.