One of the Mallard Kind by Mary Lou Meyers

From my classmate, Mary Lou, to me: “I don’t know if you remembered this poem or not, I wrote, perfect for April 1st.”
Great way to start off April and National Poetry Month.
A shroud of snow obliterates the landscape,
a tapestry of winter, dead-leafed plants
frozen to the ground this April 1st made for fools.

Dressed to kill with his metallic green hood,
his creamy collar, his handsome purple-blue vest
bordered in front and back with white,
while she is all mottled brown-aproned,
easily camouflaged among the weeds.

With his reedy soft tones you’d think he’d wear her down,
but her resounding “quack” tells him,
she’ll have the last word in this affair of the heart.
She plays one against the other right from the start,

finally he wears the rival down,
crowning his efforts in the rippling pond
with his head bobbing up and down,
spreading his heraldic wings,
treading water as if to say try me
I’m here to stay or fly away from her kind forever.

At last she takes the bait,
answers him in kind,
bobbing up and down in unison,
his long tail feathers tingling,
she finally turns into him,
and succumbs to his iridescent  charms.

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