Long ago there were women and men who created a park,
a place where no humans would hunt you.
Then summers started getting hotter and drier,
and hunters more determined.
Then you came; then your ducklings.
I watch them follow you along a rippling channel through the rocks.
The last duckling gets stuck between two rocks.
I watch to see what you will do.
Without turning, you slow down, pause a moment,
then continue serenely through the ripples.
You must pull yourself out, you’re saying,
and follow me.
Who showed you how to care for your ducklings?
Who will show us how to care for your park?
The duckling struggles and pulls himself out,
following you to a shady part of the creek, cool, with plenty of bugs.