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December 23, 2014 Inspring, Poetry 0

by Lilly Baxley

A waddle to the right

and a hop in the air,

a plop on the ground

and a small scare.

It fluttered away

only to be chased

by a yellow tail

that followed in haste.

The wings carried the creature away

but webbed feet followed working still to keep pace.

The bright feathers moved to and fro

trying not to let the winged thing go

but his balance was lost

and he fell to the ground,

looking to the sky,

searching around.

He lost the thing that flew,

it was no where in sight.

Now he was at a loss

because he could not reach such heights.

without warning,

on its beak the creature landed

and stretched out its wings,

the butterfly looked in the duck’s eyes

and saw beautiful things.

About Lilly Baxley

Stage manager, theater lover, artist in various forms. poetry writer and wannabe killer of zombies! (Michonne in the making)

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