Gentle ripples roll out across the water
the susurrus of tiny waves lapping against a man-made shore
as ever so silently
he waits,
pin feathers ruffling in the light breeze
golden waves pierce through the muddy green of the pond
as one foot lifts to tread, pause, step downward into the murky silt
the head, cocked, eyes blink, twitching
to whatever he sees beneath the bright reflection of sun
the ruff at his neck fluffs in the wind as the feathers on the back of his head rise,
ever so,
eyes darting here, there—
stabbing unexpectedly through the water,
prey missed by the sharp knife on his head
waiting patiently now for his morning breakfast.
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