A Little Miracle

Two black and brown puffs of duckling
Little bits of thistledown
That could have blown away in a breeze
Bobbing beneath the bank of the river.

As I approached they bobbed out into the current
Were washed away like flotsam
Making high peeps of sound
Till a bend snatched them out of sight.

All night I worried for them
Went out into the raining darkness
To the lion roar of the river
Listened in hope for their peeping.

And I wondered that such little things survived at all,
Winter and spring, the angry traffic of this world,
To grow safe and strong into wings
To learn to fly.

--Kenneth C. Steven (1968- ) Scottish poet and author, from Iona: Poems, 2000.