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If you’ve been following our wood duck house, there is sad news. None of the eggs hatched. After nearly 40 days, we thought it was time to give up, even though the hen was still sitting on them. What do you do with such a life lesson? Write a poem about it.
Nature can be a cruel teacher.
Eggs in a nest box,
how a silly duck hen
will sit for days and days.
Could she smell the rotting?
Did she see the gray shadow growing
cold? Some days nature is so violent
whole trees fall. They block the road.
They tell us we don’t belong.
Why on earth are we all here?
When birth is so random,
so dependent on the stars
sprinkling miracle dust,
declaring life.
Not today. When we take the eggs
out of the box, I forget to count.
Toss them into the water,
an afternoon snack for an evil snake
grabbing anything it can for survival.
Survival is not for everything
God makes. Some days
you just have to clean out the box,
add new shavings in,
Begin again.
— Margaret Simon, draft, 2019
Reflections on the Teche 