Making Memories: Anatidae

He sifts and shunts at the reeds then turns his back on the shallows and heads outwards. His feathers rustle. Alone. He sees land to the left, more reeds, and on the embankment trees and leaves; the island and this is his home, mostly. To the right is the deeper water and he corrects his course. A surface of black and gold that ripples away behind him and he paddles and tilts his head. Blue above, but early. Early. He dives. The mud gives way to his bill as he roots for lavae and worms. The silence is less down here, a faint hiss like background radiation, reaching through the body of water. Whispers from the bog. The sediment he disturbs is dark brown: peat tannins, humic acid, little or no oxygen. He surfaces then dives again. Deeper here, waterweed and he burrows into the soil, shakes at it, the water darkens further but his eyes are huge and sharp: insects scatter but are caught smartly. An off-white glint at the bottom, smallish bones, maybe the remains of a young coot or the finger from a long-forgotten human sacrifice, bludgeoned to death and dumped in the water centuries ago. The drake glides past this history and rises again, breaks the water-mirror and light cascades off his feathers. He has drifted and is back closer to the island and over by the tree roots she sits - unattended! - and he hurries and they regard each other. They met yesterday? The day before? But then with others and he was chased away. But she knows him and he lifts his body high and shakes himself and she inclines her head. Later they dive and feed and the feeding is good and this he will remember. And this he will remember: alone, the bones, the hiss through liquid and now she is with him and the water wakes in two. The matter underneath their feet rises then settles, gently moved by their questing slipstreams.

New Theme: Making Memories: She Wakes Me In The Morning

She wakes me in the morning,
the flicker of a little girl.

Waiting for her to emerge
out of her little cocoon.
Waiting for her first smile
 and now it's here

melting my heart
strengthening it
till it can never break again
never a crack in the crystalnever no more
 or 
until she starts to cry
scream until she is red in the face
and I know not what to do
I know not what she wants. And I sooth and I am,we arethe three of usin our own little cocoontill the world comes knocking.
She wakes me in the morning
so gently
my little girl.