Good Job, Pretty Girl.

Mother Duck waddled through the grass, trailed closely by her handful of ducklings.

They stayed so closely underfoot, even sometimes tripping over each other or nearly stumbling their momma.  They bustled and bumped into one another, but they stayed inside an invisible diametric perimeter.

Always close to Mom.

I looked closely at her from afar.  She was limping.  She kept moving forward on this one injured leg.  She led her ducklings to safety.  They were nearly home to their nest.

And they barely knew she was hurting.

I whispered to her.  “Go on, little momma.  Good job, pretty girl.  I get you.”

* * *

I’d go hungry; I’d go black and blue,
And I’d go crawling down the avenue.
No, there’s nothing that I wouldn’t do
To make you feel my love.