fourth largest spring in the world
cave wide as a
four-lane highway
deep as a
five-story building
primeval river
home to Creatures
great and small
real and unreal
alligators in the grass
gill men in their lairs
skinny-necked anhingas dry wings
on baldcypress
yellow-legged moorhens tend babies
on the banks
heron, ibis, cormorant
egrets in young plumage
mer-manatee
cardinal flowers among
wax myrtle, islands of
clear water amid murk
algae-coated eelgrass
“Once so clear it was transparent 120 feet down”
says the ranger
now
cloudy bluegreen water
covers head spring
the ranger says
“overpopulation”
the ranger says
“nitrates”
it will be clear again someday
he says
“nature will take care of it”
we won’t see it
I hear echoes of
my geology teacher:
“If these springs ever get polluted,
it will take thousands of years for them
to get clean”
Would Tallahassee move its spray field
for this wonder?
Couldn’t we all use
less water?
How do we dissolve nitrates, phosphorus?
How do we reverse the damage?
Above the spring
I search for my reflection
See only cloudy murk
And ask myself
Why didn’t I come 20 years ago?
What took me so long?
And I cry, Wakulla
I cry
Wakulla
