Famous Reporter # 37 - poetry, Mike Cooper: 'Down on duck duty'

MIKE COOPER

Down on duck duty

The best time to be a teacher

is after lunch

in that rare hush

when their minds turn to the task

and yours turns to vapour

seeps through the classroom walls, and trickles down outside

                       on the river

you can stop paddling

let the current carry the canoe

and trail your hand in the water

                       from the bank

those great ungainly gums

stretch out their lower limbs

                       only their upper leaves stir

where half-concealed a flock of lorikeets

feed and squabble in the heat

                       at length a zephyr comes

                       it soothes

                       it brings you snatches of a boating song

Down the aisles you glide,

murmuring "my -- lovely -- little -- ducklings."

Although they are 12 and mostly 13

they seem happy to pretend.

Here and there

as the rhythm requires

you pat one on the crown.

Behind your back you hear a whisper,

"Sir, you missed me!"

When you turn, you find Amelia

almost in dismay.

"You missed mine," she indicates

and ducks her downy head.

Mike Cooper was born in Tasmania in 1939.