Starts low in a crouch
Fingers scrape wide
Fog lights wired breath
Dewclaws spread the ice
Eyes lock on laurels
The tongue licks slick awe
Nobody calls it
Though named by God
It’s the home
The homeowner
Has never seen
And the island
Deep deep
Not yet raised
And it aches
And aches
And never goes away
Though it squawks
The whole day long
And serenades so
And serenades
What a creature
It’s past noon
And you’re
Still in bed