If we were in Western Bay
We’d wake up to the sound of trees bristling;
Not the kind of quiet that you get in town,
But the kind that holds you,
Like a quilt pulled up to your ears 

A woodpecker would tap on the side of the cabin
And Jason would squabble out in slippers
Wielding an ancient broom like a sword,
Protecting the country of his grandparents' house
And its faded yellow siding 

Gregory would charge after him,
All bark and tail in tangled joy 
You’d squint at me, half-asleep
With sunlight in your eyes
And laughter already tucked behind your crooked tooth 

And I’d think
God-
If this is seventeen,
Let it last forever