It was a fine morning
Nothing was boring
The air was crisp and filled with snow
I added caramel to my marshmallow
I toasted next to a fire
As gazed upon my treat with great desire
I slowly bent down to pick it up
When in flew a plump young duck
I grabbed my torch and flung with fury
Apparently, it was in no hurry
It might have escaped had I not closed the shutter
The duck tried again with a great flutter
I flung again and this time bullseye
I feasted that night on a delicious duck pie.
I simply decided to write a poem. Though, I did eat duck the other night.