When your wife is worried after the cares of the day, and the children are
boisterous, I can rest the one and quiet the other.
Does she fancy a minuet or the call
of a foreign shore? I’ve a portfolio of bird warbles,
could she have, your bride, that I can’t
fix? I’m the basket and the tisket. I’ll take her to task
for the babe, bounce dimpled knees to dream, pull
chisel hours of the day while she backflips through clothespins,
the rattle of need, crawl of hold-me caws in those ears.