Heavy rains — this roadside puddle becomes a small lake, a few days' wonder that must be driven 'round
But look! A trio of ducks, drawn as though to a fixture on the map, paddling happily across it! For them, I'd stock it with minnows — (where do you get minnows?)
(And is my life like that, but a momentary failure in the drainage of some life force?)
But now, see, too soon, too soon, the lake is but a rising mist, over a dry bed, a low cloud through which ducks weave (the fickle things), seeking a stabler pool.