Dustin
~ by Lisa Ann Reilich
It’s winter. I’m pouring warm water
from a blue plastic 5-gallon bucket
brought by sled down the frozen February
drive into Dustin‘s little white-enameled
metal bathtub. It’s just above freezing,
steam rises as I pour. I spy Dustin soiled,
unkempt nearby. Deftly scooping him up,
pinning his wings to quiet his instinctive
struggling, I carry him. The elder Pekin
duck is more crippled each day. Winter
has not gone gently for him this year.
Dustin can barely walk lately, he hobbles
more than waddles. In my arms he resists
and then, as I release, he spreads his wings
wide as the clouded sky, landing
with a plunk in his bath.
My mood is heavy today, a cast-iron skillet
crashing through the ice and sinking solidly
into the murky bottom kind of heavy. I’m in
the muck with the hibernating carps, pressure
of tears not dropped, steam not rising, tugging
at my chest. I’m wondering if the water will be
too warm and then, in moments, the crystal clear
bath turns as murky as my mood. But Dustin’s
whitening feathers and ecstasy in motion makes
twin mood and dirtied water not matter.
There’s something about watching this once spry
duck, just moments ago so old, in his winter bath bliss
radiating joy that has me smiling. I’m witnessing
a farmyard miracle. The crippled duck looks brand
new. He looks whole, where before he was broken.
An old duck turns young again for a few minutes
of sheer splish-splash flashing bliss in the frozen
February sun. Wings spread and flap, neck cranes
down with arching grace. Even semi-blind, his bill
finds the water. And up again he preens and cleans
and dances again, and again. With each of his ecstatic
movements my smile grows. Heavy grows
light, lifting my frying pan mood right up out
of this murky dark and chilling ice.
And there’s something about knowing that his days
are numbered, that for him today might be the last,
that makes his joy, his bliss, so much more catching.
More contagious than the cold.
And if that’s all my life amounts to, carrying
Dustin over to a warm winter bath for a few
moments of joy in his otherwise debilitating
elder duck life, well, maybe that’s enough.
Maybe that’s enough.
🌟💙🌟
February 2024
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