Revelation

Who ordained the flicker on my
metal ridgepole that he greets the
sunrise with such thunderous tattoo?
There he goes again, the hammer-voiced
prophet, rousing the neighborhood
to praise. Who wants to hear his
invocation at four o’clock in the 
morning? The whole house shakes
with his fervor. Again and again
and again he calls us to witness.
Why can’t he testify from a dead
branch for a mate and caterpillars?
And leave us to our own devotions
when we get our eyes open.