Three more lines about ducks

One mallard flies across a gray morning sky;
that evening, a bufflehead bobs lightly
between slate waves and darkness.




...can you write a poem about a bufflehead and have it taken seriously? I could make it a goldeneye, but the duck in my head is a bufflehead and it doesn't seem right to change it. They are serious small ducks; respect them.

Today was obnoxious, but hey, ducks.