Siting by the Pond after 9-11

A poem written while I sat by a pond during the insanity a few weeks after 9-11.
I desperately needed to carve out a small slice of sanity at the time.

A cool breeze flutters, tickles my skin
Dark, oddly shaped ducks float and bob
Grouped like a school of fish

Long, drooping willow branches
Sway in a playful wind

A kayak crosses my view
Spa-lish, Spa-lish, Spa-lish
Rhythmic, soft paddle strokes
Dip, push, then rise away

A pair of ducks (siblings? lovers?)
Waddle onto the shore and groom each other

International powers are squabbling over MORE today
Thank you, God, for a peaceful place to sit
And something nice to say.