On a bench by a pond

Something about wet two-by-fours
feels like home.
Xe sits on a bench, wet from morning dew and mist,
on a boardwalk overlooking a pond.

Two mallards paddle in front of xem—
a slow game of tag or awkward flirting, xe isn’t sure.
Soft croaks from red-legged frogs emanate
from the kinnikinnik covering the ground.

Xe could breathe here.

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