A pair of limpkins working methodically along the shore
Hungry birds probing busily for clams and snails
Focused on feeding themselves as I watch them
Walking on stilt legs across the way the other morning.
At night their calls reverberate penetrating the walls
If you happen to wake and listen in the darkness
A piercing scream that would be a howl of lament
If a person were the source of that sorrowful sound.
This morning one was standing a few feet away
At the water's edge just behind our house
While the other cried out nearby protesting
Continuing its lifelong endless complaint.
I do not mind being their local audience
Welcoming their presence joining us here
Announcing themselves in their unmistakable way
Showing their skills shucking the shellfish.
If a day goes by in silence without them
I look out over the water wondering where they are
Realizing I miss that emphatic shrieking squawk
A noise that affirms nature thrives in this place.
