Ship's Clock Bells

On the mantel a ship’s clock

bells each watch —a single chime

marks half past midnight

six chimes three. By six
the backyard young men

partying all night are gone —

no, they’re still at it though

the baby’s no longer screaming —

is it sick? or worse, alone?
The bullfrog, knowing I watch

from the window above its head

doesn’t answer calls from another
bullfrog deep in the reeds.
Nuthatch is waiting

for feeders I carried inside

the night before — rain be damned

I sandal up to hang them

— hummingbird wheels.
The washer spins, the dining
room table shakes, my tea trembles
at such fearful asymmetry.

Claw prints on deck boards

chattering & screaming —

how can raccoons afford
to mate in the night?
And what’s a kitten’s secret?

No, I can’t say secret

or heart or frozen ice or melt —
simply care for, welcome inside.

— 20 July 2013