Captain Hook
While my son was rock-climbing,
I was running
on wet pavement
back home,
considering the clouds
and the mishappen happenings
of this January day, and myself.
The birds were awake and twittering
because there were plentiful
worms for the taking
and it was worth singing over.
I read that the blue whales
don’t sing much anymore.
The krill swam farther away,
to cooler water.
There isn’t strength for singing
when you are starving.
Tick-tock, tick-clock goes the clock
when every second counts,
not just for Captain Hook
and his sentence of doom:
an alligator’s gaping jaws.
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