A feather duster up on stilts
Who favors neither pants nor kilts,
He thinks his native state is splendid
And gads about as God intended.
Content with just a hint of wings,
He doesn’t honk or point at things.
His mark is light upon the land.
Whose head is buried in the sand?
Ed Shacklee is a public defender who represents young people in the District of Columbia. His poems have appeared in Angle, The Flea, Light, Per Contra and Shot Glass Journal, among other places. He is working on a bestiary.