The Silent Exchange
By the pond, I stopped to see
A world that whispered back to me.
The air was still, the day hung tight,
And she, the mallard, caught my sight.
Her eyes, a depth I couldn’t place,
Met mine with quiet, steady grace.
Not startled, not afraid to stay,
As if she’d something left to say.
Her mirrored twin in water deep
Seemed locked in secrets she would keep.
The ripples swirled, the light grew thin,
And I was drawn to look within.
Her gaze held more than just my form—
A pause between the calm and storm.
Did she see me, or something more?
A shadow knocking on the door?
The water wove its winding thread,
Reflecting paths both walked and fled.
Her stillness asked, without a sound,
If I had truly looked around.
Was I the watcher, passing by,
Or had she paused to catch my eye?
For in her stare, I seemed to find
A mirror to my restless mind.
The mallard stood, the ripples grew,
The world returned in muted hue.
And as I left, her quiet grace
Stayed etched upon this fleeting place.
“The Silent Exchange” captures a moment I experienced at the duck pond at Carrie Blake Park—a quiet, unexpected connection with a lone mallard. She stood still, calm and steady, her eyes meeting mine in a way that felt deliberate, as if she wasn’t just looking at me but into me. For a moment, it was like time paused, and the ripples on the water became part of the conversation we weren’t having out loud.
Her reflection in the water mirrored something deeper—a quiet question, maybe even an answer I hadn’t realized I was looking for. I couldn’t tell if I was watching her or if she was watching me, but in that stillness, it felt like we both understood something unspoken. It wasn’t just about observing her; it was about noticing the moment and the connection, a fleeting pause that left me with more than I expected.
