I found a feathered duck, ruffled and brown,
On a green Maidenhair fern, holding up a fly,
Like a small lump of coal.
Assorted characters of life and death.
Mixed with heaven and hell.
Like the ingredients to an evil step-mothers stew.
A featherless duck, a fern blooming like spring, and fly wings.
What did that fern do with the ruffled brown duck?
The duck brown the fern innocent and full.
What brought the duck to the fern?
What brought the fly as well?
What but the design of life.
If design is in a thing so big.