A few hours after hatching
North America’s only perching duck,
Takes a Fluff-filled death defying
dive from the nest
to the hard forest floor below
The height from which they leap
is astonishing, 30, 50 ft
   Their wings are but nubs
And they bounce on the ground
After ricocheting off branches or plant life
to join their mother below

Sometimes I feel a kinship
with those ducklings
As each fluffy feeling of mine plummets
into the public sphere of LexPoMo.
It doesn’t hesitate too long,
doesn’t consider whether it’s truly ready
Or equipped to deal with what hard blows
may result
Sometimes a mere hour after birth
The wood duckling discovers flight
before it’s grown wings