On meeting a duck in Church Street

ON MEETING A DUCK IN CHURCH STREET

One morning, on the way to work, I saw her
Marching her platoon of ducklings, hatched
Perhaps in some municipal flowerbed,
Along the pavement outside the Co-op.
She knew where she was going. So she led
Them safely through the traffic (waiting
Patiently for the lights to change) and past
The towering flats, to reach the haven
Of the river-side.

Once wildlife knew its place.
An urban lifestyle suited just a few
Bronchitic sparrows and the ubiquitous rat.
Now nature comes to town. Squirrels cavort
Among the churchyard stones, rabbits inhabit
Sainsbury's carpark, and a fox is seen
Padding the suburban avenues.
The heron brooding by the garden pond
Is real, not plastic.

Do you think they know
Something we don't? Species become extinct
Continually, no-one is immune.
Maybe our successors even now
Survey the ground, staking their claims,
Ready to move in once the coast is clear.
You never used to see a duck in town,
Strolling along as if it owned the place.