~   OLD STALE BREAD   ~

Feeding the ducks, this old loaf of bread,
In the park, where I sit on my swing.
Setting in wait is a dozen or two,
Fuzzy ducklings tucked underneath wings.

A Lop-eared Bunny, hides next to a tree,
Someone’s deserted it here,
To fend for himself, he's hungry, I'll bet,
There's plenty for us to share

Feeding the ducks, this old stale bread,
A crust for the lop-eared stray.
The yin and the yang, seem to balance it out,
In a mysterious, unbalanced way.

Sooner or later, folks come to the park,
The good and the bad, in review.
I sit on my swing and observe goings on,
In the lives of a picnic, or two.

Feeding the ducks, this old stale bread,
Opened tired weary eyes to reveal,
A world gone unnoticed, in my younger day,
Nature patiently waits, unconcealed…

I see more clearly, as my eyesight fades,
In the wonders bestowed upon me.
Nature’s beautiful bounty, her common sense rules,
Old stale bread and sunsets are free…

COPYRIGHT©2004 BONNIE TORRENTE