Duck in the Night

Walking back through Myrtle-Edwards Park after dark, I stop to inspect a shape laying in the grass. I take step closer and ask, “Is that a duck?” The shape shifts it’s weight defensively and turns its green mallard head to look at me. I can just make out a female right beside him, unstirred. I move back toward the path, “Sorry to disturb you.”

I’d almost swear that I spoke the words, “Is that a duck?” before I thought them. If that’s the case, then maybe the ducks were only there after they were thought of.

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