Today's prompt is for a cleave poem, a new one I hadn't heard of yet. I really like the idea of this form, but it's going to take me some time to write my first one. Time is what I do not have this evening, along with the necessary energy. So the cleave will have to wait till this weekend. For today, a freeform tale:
At the pond
in the park
baby ducklings,
just-hatched,
heart-breakingly tiny,
clump in groups
dive in panics
scamper in pods
behind a mother duck,
but not their mother duck;
they are lost
and seeking refuge
with any grownup;
for good reason,
we learn,
as the black crowned night herons
begin their dusky quest
for ducky dinner;
one by one
the ducklings are scooped
gulped whole
for a sad supper
of nature red in tooth and claw,
though beak fits better here.
Across the pond
the little boys
spy the one remaining duckling;
look, mommy, it’s a baby duck!
(Don’t look, little boys;
life’s lessons are too hard for you today.)
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