feeding the ducks

ignoring the posted
sign saying
don't feed
the wildlife,
the woman
and her
older daughter
open a plastic bag
of sliced
white bread.
they whistle
and call to the ducks,
tossing
shreds of crust
towards them.
come here duckies,
they say
together. toes
touching
the brown water,
flip flops
dug into the wet
sand. they are
smoking cigarettes,
and carrying
cans of beer.
the ducks come,
not flying,
but swimming
gently, their black
feathers,
grey with green,
folded
in layers. their
long necks draped
in white peering
elegantly
towards shore.