I have no legs, yet I can run,I chase the moon, I follow the sun. I wear no face, but still reflect, I mirror skies when calm and kept.

I move, but barely, slow and wide, with secrets 'neath my muddy tide. The cypress leans to touch my face, where gators glide in silent grace. Neither river, lake, nor sea, what Southern soul could I then be?

When you stop to look, you can always see me. But if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?

I spin without a sound, yet my path is bound, with life I am crowned

I look like a mouth, but I am not a body part. People often dive here.