The limpkin resembles a toppled vase, Dappled with white spots on its wings And woody down; and flowing out Like a rush of water, its neck, Brilliantly flecked with flashing white, Ends in its beautiful beak that curves Very slightly, harpoonlike, probing Through shallow waters, silt, and clay For submerged mollusks to pick apart. Its legs are fully half its height: Walking sticks deliberate In planting their quadrupod toes.
The limpkin was endangered once, Hunted for its plumage's art. Capricious supply and demand, The vilest trait of humankind, Came close to etching its demise; But thanks is due to providence Whose power turns curses around. When the invasive apple snail Took Florida, the limpkin found An ecosystem it could thrive In again, pulling prodigious Amounts of shells from the freshwater Marshes and creeks; if not for that, I may have never had the chance To see the little limpkin fly Over the ripples of the pond, Gliding down to the verdant banks To trod with twiggy little legs At the shoreline; where dragonflies, Blue and pink, black and red, Glimmering gold and shining jade, Flit across the surface and mate, Coupling in flight and performing Their strange dance on the water's edge.
A place for my poems 