Starting from well behind the line
I ran the race as best I could.
I do not have the newer shoes
But I have legs both fast and strong.

I held my own through
The very first curve
And pulled ahead
On the straightaway.

But then the oval straightened out
And it became an endless road
So my advantage faded off
And others started catching up.

In fancy shoes
And running clothes
They gained on me
With every step.

Now in the middle of the pack
I felt the breath of those behind
Who wanted me out of their way
And nudged me over to the edge.

The tatters of my shoes fell off
And I was running barefoot
Over rocky ground that cut my feet
Not on the turf inside the track.

The race went on and I fell back
With with each and every painful step.
I was last of all the rest
As everybody passed me

The finish line came into sight
And though I had a painful limp
I struggled on to get there
The cheering was for someone else
But I was still a winner.
ljm

sunlight's strung the bow,
and the kiss of the wind strikes
the waltz of flowers.

On the Center Island embankment
Mother Mallard sits on her eggs 24-29 days
One hour twice a day in the sunshine,rays
She must leaves her eggs unprotected
Starvation never realizes the unexpected

Mrs. Fiddle and Mr. Faddle
Had eight eggs under their care
Predation, Herons claimed seven there
A perfect duckling name Little Paddle
The only Duckling to survive

Fluffy, healthy, strong Full of energy alive
Fiddle and Faddle guarded Little Paddle
From dillydallying around
For a wild Little Paddle
Mischief can easily be found

All mallard ducks pair off The same way
Pecking order, preservation at play
Mother Mallards sit distant from the flock
Mrs.Fiddle Mr. Faddle and Little Paddle
Animal instincts stay distant from the dock

One fine day A mishap dismay
Wiggle and waddle they progressed
Refreshed, Digressed and obsessed
They search for their missing Little Paddle

Under a Elderly Mother Mallard’s wing
A small Beak seen it’s the cutest little thing
Out pops Little Paddle
squeaking and squawking “ here I am”

Fiddle and Faddle tired of worry walking
Mrs. Fiddle pitched a fit, spit and Spatial
A plangent tangent, of loss, of pain
But for a Little Paddle it was just a game

Harmoniously Honking all is right as rain
Mrs. Fiddle and Mr. Faddle
Have a heck of a time gripping the rattle
The parenting reins in the saddle

Growing quickly with giggles and gaggles
The adventures of Little Paddle

When the sky was blue on a windless day
the net would stretch they itched to play
the racquets rose and fell in grace
smash and volley in quickened pace.

The three boys ran the hardest race
there was a girl they must impress
among them was the beauty queen
that stole the heart burned the skin.

The wintry noon passed pretty soon
on the blue birthed a crescent moon
a clap from the girl was reward enough
those times of life were fairytale stuff.

On the court in that playful bliss
each boy dreamed the girl was his
by the racing clock went past the days
the field fell empty they parted ways.

sweet bird of budding april's pretty wing,
sat in the willow where the catkins grow,

enchanting like the river's winding flow,
small chatterbox that always loves to sing,

the blossoms kiss the sky whose wandering
finds vast crusades where fleeting warriors go,

true to their loves e'en in the bleakest snow,
or some princess who finds a sapphire ring.

enchanted lands, the bird sings in the tree,
so long forgotten once found near and far,
where streams wind yonder where the bluebirds play,

on honey branches by the windswept sea,
as if they whispered underneath a star
of princely gold the beauty of the day.