Two Mallards on Our Front Porch by Antonio Vallone

Two mallards on our front porch surprised

my wife this morning.

We’ve never seen ducks

in our new neighborhood before.

The nearest body of water has two names:

Juniata Lake, for the Native American tribe

who used to live around it,

or Tannery Dam, for the leather-tanning company

that used to operate there

after the Juniata tribe was bought

away from their home.

Before we moved, we lived across two streets

and a playground from there.

Ducks waddled over all the time,

sunning themselves in our front yard

or rummaging for food in our neighbor’s garden.

My wife named one pair Bert and Murtle

and some days called out to them

like they were two old friends.

As we drove slowly off, the male stood

as still as an iridescent green lawn ornament

you’d be more likely to see around here,

reflecting the mid-March sunshine.

The female meandered around our side yard,

rooting under flower bushes waiting to bloom

probably for a place to nest.

But I prefer to believe the ducks missed us

and flew over to see for themselves

that we were safe.

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Antonio Vallone, associate professor of English at Penn State DuBois, founder of MAMMOTH books, poetry editor of Pennsylvania English,co-founding editor of TheWatershed Journal Literary Group. Published collections: The Blackbird’s Applause, Grass Saxophones, Golden Carp, and Chinese Bats. Forthcoming:American Zen and Blackberry Alleys: Collected Poems and Prose.