Every year

Every year the ducks return
To their nest
Twenty yards downstream
From our yard
We put out
Cracked corn for them
The ducklings hatch
And entertain us
They struggle to climb
Inside the bowl
To feast on corn
They huddle in a pile
And nap together
They waddle across the grass
In formation
Two feet apart
Hunting bugs
Under Momma Duck's
Watchful eye
They follow her everywhere
As they grow
Our grass
Becomes the best
Restaurant in town
They bring their friends
Then hang out
They sun themselves
Eat fallen apples
From our tree
Establish
Pecking order
And pair off
We have to
Stop feeding them
In September
They need to migrate
But will return
To hatch ducklings
Of their own