Here is the little earthworm-eater
she-kiwi.
She’s in her frenzy of lust.
There she goes in her flightless
night journey, in mating season,
warm in her fur-feathers
poking her long bill, beaker,
with nostrils at the tip
sniffing and drilling
scratching and uprooting
with her powerful feet
pausing, maybe, to let
herself be mounted
furiously and briefly
by a he-kiwi whose
odor is to her liking.
Then there she goes again —
through the underbrush
(followed by her 
faithful seducer)
back to her querencia
to burrow down
and wait and sometime
later she stands up

suddenly, and hatches
a big egg
nearly half the size
of her little body.
Finished, she steps away
and the father-to-be
steps in and sits
on the egg
warming it,
sits and sits warmly,
for three months
while she-kiwi, lustful still,
goes out looking
to get laid again.