No one ever really means ‘Ducking’

But a shout out is in order to AutoCorrect for Its accuracy on this one particular occasion…

For the Ducks & Geese at Cave Hill Cemetery –

You are the sentries of the afterlife,
a Monty Python sketch in honking reality
left to waddle amongst headstones and
stand guard for those who came here
to rest a spell beneath a sun that still
spins after a heart beats no longer.

Much like bank robbers and the pan-
handlers on 4th St Downtown, those ducks
are after that bread whether or not that
is part of your or my plan, the same way
the cemetery is where we’re all headed,
whether or not that is part of your or my
plan.  There is a status quo to be upheld
in this life that includes

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the occasional slice of wheat bread,
the occasional sunburn, the occasion
of bright laughter while in possession
of a bag of unsalted peanuts intended
for squirrels, thrown like confetti in
an attempt to escape the inevitable by
offering the tiny honking mafia a tithe
for temporary safe passage from fifty

level-one enemies while on a side quest
to pay respects to The Greatest of All Time.

—Heidi Taylor

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