From Woody's Restaurant, Middlebury
Today, noon, a young macho friendly waiter and three diners,
business types—two males, one female—
are in a quandary about the name of the duck paddling
Otter Creek,
the duck being brown, but too large to be a female mallard.
They really
want to know, and I'm the human-watcher behind the nook
of my table,
camouflaged by my stillness and nonchalant plumage.
They really want to know.
This sighting I record in the back of my Field Guide to People.
No comments:
Post a Comment