Bob’s duck boat is nearly ready:
cattails, bullrushes, netting,
torn strips of olive bedsheet woven in
— a masterpiece this year.
Yesterday he flung decoys
like seed: grebes, scoters, coots,
buffleheads, pintails and loons.
And like every year, he’ll plop down
on his porch and read a book,
shotgun on his lap, ready
for anything that might paddle
or swim along the road
until Gloria, bless her soul,
through the living room window,
lures him back inside.
Image: Šárka Krňávková on Unsplash