They fly past as in a  furious blurry rush

Where’s the hurry?  Where you bound?

Next pond or maybe very next puddle

Not quiet about it, as if to flaunt flight

Groucho would offer a magic word

 Blink to not see them near here 

Darts of color, toss of quack

Not clean but muddy joy

 Dawdle with no urgency 

No fooling with them

 Duck a day will do

I taste the air

Join their fair

Webbed feet make for a waddle

When out of water, awkward

When out of air, awkward

Upside down feeding

Not their best angle

Fluff their feathers 

No song copied

 Distinct calls 

Faint and fond

Noisy 

 Distance

Shadowy wing

  Heroic travelers 

Nesting never safe

Mudd best in a pinch

Lilly pads and scum

Frogs for garnish

No foxes

Males hit and run sometimes

 Embarrassing and rough

Females select a spot

It’s spring as flocks return

With  glisten and call 

Calls are real deal

Flocks on the air

Mystery migration

 Breaking clouds

April is back