The Good and The Bad

Sometimes, it's wrong and beautiful. Like waking up at 6:30 am. Deciding not to topple back into bed. Getting up.

Talking a walk. For more than an hour. And the vacant lakeside smell. The roads illuminated by shadows.

Watching the birds at lakeside. Fat wild hens, hardly able to move among the bushes. One of them manages to do the Titanic atop a stick in the mud.

U2 playing in my head.

Watching the ducks. Ah, I can't leave it at this. The ducks toddling by the pool. The ducks licking, and garnishing themselves, lost in their own world. One leg up. Neck a 180 degree. Scratch scratch. More. I am in love. With all 10 of them.