The ducklings shoot across the lake
like pinballs
their mother bellows behind them
a litany of quacks
presumably about eagles
and staying in line
I feel for her
but I can’t help but root
for her babies
such exhilaration in their feet
racing into the newness
I see it in my son too
impervious to doubt
he runs from one moment to the next
convinced the world is waiting
to show him more tricks
watch his hands
they grab at everything
you think it’s curiosity
but it’s more urgent than that
it’s his spirit
hungry
as he shovels in life.