Nature’s forgiving Spring

They know not your warmth
nor your unflinching gaze

those curves of comfort grooves
of unflappable feathers aligning effortlessly
with grieving fingers, to lessen
a quite existences lonesome taxes

they know not your varnished coats cooling grace
nor your Sunflower wig’s ability: to brighten lives.

Donald, I carry you
to view you favourite lake’s
resurgent Spring, once again;

walking by your resting place, I recall
that first glimpse of clustered jet-black feathers, lifeless
despair greased drip-marks as your palmate calling cards,
those long two weeks till your beady eyes looked out
beyond those horror stained eyelids
and you quacked your way into my heart,

we cleaned you up and that lake that claimed your kin:
you forgave and chose to reward us with witty antics
cultivating a lifetime, of nourishing smiles.