A pond is my place. Solace.

Ice covers it now.
Sometimes so grey
Other times sun sparkling.
Willows droop over.
Despondent at the
Hiatus in relationship.
In frogs peeping.
Mallards courting
Or leading a string of tiny ones.
Monarchs enrapt in their
Pre migration dance.
Flying whimsically.
I come any season.
Any wardrobe, weather.
I must have that solace
My kids called it the Duck Pond.
Also remembering
Them in visiting.
How they teamed up, laughed
Ventured.
Now those little ones have grown.
Departed.
I stand alone, dreaming.
But not quite alone.
And that is more
Than worth it.