you might have bread

you skip a stone across
the blue
mirrored pond.
this makes the ducks, fat
and black
in their slow swim
to rise
and flutter harshly
their lazy wings.
they look at you,
measuring you up,
then swim towards where
you are standing.
they paddle quickly their
orange webbed feet, beaks
honking. they think you
might have bread.
it reminds of you of
how the phone rings
everyday at six p.m.
they too thinking
you might have bread.