We passed the pond at the Prospect
Park Zoo
Filled with quacking mallards
and a silent swan or two.
We passed some dingoes and
donkeys and sheep.
Some baa-ed, brayed and howled.
Some fast asleep.
The peacocks swished by us
with royal displeasure.
Tree birds sang to each other,
but gave us no measure.
Youthful no longer, we had to
sit for a rest
And watched children who romped
with vigor and zest.
The pandemic and quarantine
had worn us away.
Spring sunshine and breezes
gave us the gift of today.
We talked and philosophized,
we conferred and we mused,
Discussing politics and
protests, the victims, the accused.
Into our grave conversation of
trials and troubles
Floated down a surprise of
soft, round, shimmery bubbles.
A buoyant young boy freed spheres
to the air
Iridescent bubbles bound here
and then there.
He blushed as we turned, and thought
us irate,
But when we asked for more
bubbles, he did not hesitate.
He blessed us with bubbles; he
blessed us with joy.
He made us feel youthful, our sweet
bubbly boy.
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