Epithalamion for the Ark Lovers
There was once a dashing lad
from the mid-coast of Maine
who courted a comely duchess
from the Westerly. Now, Maine is
two lands off from the Westerly
which is a province under
its own sovereign rule, on an Island
named Rhode, but they rescued
what desperately needed to be loved
in the other’s marrow, each
of their own souls being so rare
and wanting over a great big sea.
The lad, a sailor by making,
and she, a re-claimer of lost species,
returned to their clutch after his
bucket-driven crossing from Spain,
--just like in flat world days--
until both were discovered,
and their home now together
has become the un-floating Ark
of the critters---those stripes
of the in-danger and wanting
--of shells, scales, and fur--
all-a -woof and mewing,
plodding and crawling,
scratching in their own
--singular--
language at the door,
all in need
of a roof.
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