A poem of images Once I saw two ducks on a reflective mirror They quacked, flapped, and ran. Their beaks were burnt oranges Their feathers made of mud People screamed and shouted, “Go away! You make no sense!” but I was here to stay so were the two ducks. They gently glided by as if their wings were gossamer they paused to look at me and I at them. One quacked as I heard it say “Just a reflection, on your way.” The other quacked response, “A hallucination may chance?” Once I saw two ducks Swimming on their way Maybe there were four Who is to say?