The ducks are not all in a row,
one won’t go where it’s supposed to.

It wanders after any crumbs of bread,
temptation too much, even though the

scraps of food could kill. The rest of
the ducks are following mum. But one

is eager for some sense of adventure.
That will be its undoing. A few stray

crumbs, and then attacked by life.
Killed and left to rot. All for the taste

of something it should never have.
Any of this – at all – sound familiar?