Candy Cane Birds


ImageAnn Key

At noon in France, the soft ascent of the flamingo

lights up the sky with pink clouds.


Spun from cotton candy, shaped like peppermint canes

under the hot sun these birds do not  melt.


They hang in flocks, swimming, wading, flying,

some knee deep in water, turning it pink


looking for shrimp and other aquatic fodder,

no plastic lawn decorations or fancy drink, these.


are the real deal, some gliding by contentedly

in pairs, I watch waiting for them to make a heart


with their necks of hook them together

and spin around but they serenely ignore me.


Ah oui, the flamingos are French, my preferable

type of wildlife these days is in a refuge, not a bar.     ImageKey



They call them Roseate Spoonbills.

forty fluffs of cotton paint the lakes


with their plumage contrasting

against a brown  bending road.


Candy cane stripes from

pink and white feathers


surround two bright slashes of red

which punctuate each wing.


They reflect a crimson shadow,

a pink pool below them


which blurs with the overhead sunset.

A chorus of rosy voices trumpets


Christmas carols with lusty abandonment.

Their bills stir up the water like batter beaters


as they search for their evening meal.

Like packages left in unexpected places,


they herald holiday surprises,

hopeful glimmers of joy,


these roses growing

in an unusual Christmas season


spent in Florida where the greatest

surprises exist out in awe inspiring nature.


~ by dianeklammer on June 6, 2013.

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