Peep the Duck 1:1

Transformations of a Duckling

The First Week:

Duckling, small as a penny
As an acorn, a walnut, an orange
Shiny bright and fuzzy
Baby down and bat-wing soft
Right now you are
Nothing more than frightened squeaks
To illustrate
The necessity of closeness.

Your bill is like a fingernail
Your eyes a drop of pitch—
Your feet the tiny scrabbling claws
Of a mouse inside the walls.

The Second Week:

Duckling, how awkward and anxious you seem
Peering your long neck
Through crooked doorways in search of me.
Questioning, questioning, you catch each grain
And gobble it down with quivering beak—
Then preen with wings outstretched
Your bill trembling to loose the casings
On the shaft of each prickly primary feather.

Your bill is like a spoon
Your eyes a darkened bead
Your feet the delicate webs
For walking the wet earth.

The Third Week:
Duckling, you still “peep” loudly, through your nose
When all the house is still
And your fuzzy feathers are turning
From mustard to tawny nut
Once in a while your voice is hoarse
And your round body squawks
Before you dare to dive and splash
In your sparkling water home.

Your bill is like a smile
Your eyes a wary pool
Your feet two flailing flippers
To propel you through the waves.

The Fourth Week:

Duckling, you grow fat and sleek
Your footsteps patter, like bubbles from your breath
You peck and flap with pride,
Each feather like a finger
That stops to graze the grasses
When we lie basking in the sun.
You rarely call for me—instead you like to fly
To visit all the neighbors’ rooftops.

Your bill is a weapon
Your eyes as sharp as hawks’
Your wings a silken wave
To speed you in your goodbyes.