Waiting for Legs


Lungs filled with fluid

chain her to the swamp,

drown her dreams

with their primordial


pull. But she lifts

her eyes from the

sludge, above the

bottom-feeding frenzy


to the world of

terra firma, of

grass and soil

and ambulatory


thrivers. Hers

is a hope that

floats to the surface,

waiting for legs.


Even tadpoles can dream…

Wobbly Weevil

Image courtesy of Mike at Wilden Marsh

Wobbly weevil on a leaf,

Do you have a care?

Do your many knee-joints ache

When change is in the air?

Do you tire of all the hassle

Of  bending down to pray?

Wobbly weevil, do you wish

You had less legs to shave?