The river’s surface rippled with soft light as the little white duck floated gently into the current. He did not rush or resist—his body moved with the rhythm of water, following a path older than memory itself.

In his stillness, there was wisdom: the kind that comes not from thought but from instinct, from the simple knowing of how to be in the world. Watching him drift, I was reminded of the song my mother once sang, of a little white duck “doing what he oughta.” It was more than a lullaby—it was a lesson in trust, in surrender, in letting the river carry you where you’re meant to go.

This image is not just about a duck upon the water.
It is about balance.
It is about trust.
And it is about the quiet grace of being carried, effortlessly, right where you oughta be.