Let me live alone
in the wood duck’s home
in a box on a post
at the edge of a stream
I’ll watch small fish teem
and leaves drift by
from a hole as round
as the wood duck’s eye.
 
From here in May
I will see frogs grow,
hear cedars squeak
on the winds of spring.
The wood duck will know
to leave me alone
in the little box house
at the edge of the stream.
 
I’ll watch sunlight widen
and yellow leaves drop
and stream water thicken
to ice and stop. And then
when the woods go quiet
with snow, I will hear
you calling and maybe then
I’ll go.


© by Tamara Madison.
Used with the author’s permission.