Why does Ulani sing in the night?
Could it be the whirling scent
of a raccoon, tippy-toeing across the grass
Nearer and nearer the barn? Its toes
dig into the dry sod, its whiskers quiver.
Perhaps the bunny is again making the trip
from the prairie mound to the brush --
racing over the crunchy, brown grass,
leaving behind bunny bites for eager dogs
to eat come morning.
Do the dogs across the acres call her?
Are they crying out, "I'm bored I'm bored,"
or maybe they're harwoofing "I'm the best!
You are the rest!" Appalling, must be answered.
Or maybe it's the sun itself
that brings out her song. The nightly descent
calls Ulani to the west-facing window. Her song
calls me to her side, to hug her tightly and
bury my face in her coat. Until her song is silent.