I looked out at the half frozen lake.
How lovely to be here without you:
no stones or pinecones breaking the crust of ice
and disturbing the fish.
I had time and hands
to look up the name of the black duck
with the white beak and belly:
The tufted duck.
I turned back to the path.
No squeals, no mumbled half remembered songs
from the preschool down the road.
How awful to be here without you.