Mallards

Magnificent mallards
Having conquered land, water, and sky  
Lesser gods who now    
Are floating buoyant on my pond  
Pedaling their invisible tricycles  
Which move them around rudderless  
They circle and parade  
Like small town teenagers on a Saturday night  
Though they are elegant and peaceful  
Modest and humble guest  
Yet the drake’s iridescent heads screams emerald flashes  
Or whispers dark green forests depending on the light  
Minding their own and keeping to themselves    
They glide around, then suddenly alarmed    
All together they raise their chest  
And flap their angel wings    
Streaming wakes of ripples behind them  
Before the pond’s watery hands raises them up  
And tosses them back towards heaven