Pittering bird feet
Across the fiberglass hull
During my slumber.

Pecking the sealant
Smeared around a weathered hatch
By landlubber’s hands—

Hopeful drips will cease
With winter’s shadow looming.
Few avians left.

Lying still; listen.
It nears my blanketed nest
In the beast’s belly.

Curious, hungry,
Ever searching land and sky
But always awake.

Waiting silently
Until a white-crested dome
Appears in the field.

Our eyes meet through glass,
Our minds briefly enraptured.
Our hearts skipping beats.