Here’s a poem that appears in my book Life List:
Small dabbling duck,
wallow in freshwater ,
mince your steps on the sticky fronds
rest your blue bill on your speckled chest
like a dignified dowager,
looking down her nose.
Fashionable in your touches of sapphire
on breast and wings,
your color is more blue than
what the paint store calls teal,
something more moody than
more matte than satin.