duck placed under a bucket

Darkness, the slice of a knife
bewildered mind, distant honks
feel the ground underfoot
and metallic dink dink of bill
against nonperishable tin
ponder flight as wings ache
disuse is the hardest excuse
exudes a laziness, no ears
care for stories of imprisonment.

My hard-earned is on certain facts –
two bets;
duck will settle, regain the sense
of being in the egg, wait
until the bucket is lifted
then with a honk and waddle
will hurry off to join the others
and that it is female
in carrying life they must fight
to avoid the buckets placed to curtail.

Absence creates more buckets
than there are ducks in the universe.