Noctisardor Bypass what stupid poem could fix this home?

The birds were what woke him, their sweet songs signaling the arrival of something, or someone; he wasn’t sure. His first instinct was to check on his sisters and the brother-cousins, his Aunt next, and then his mother—who seemed to be missing from their den. He was not one to panic, but it did set him on edge that one of his family, the most vital one, was not among them.

He unpacked his rotund body from the pile, sniffing them all on the way through to keep a tally on them, but his mind was more interested in what made the songbirds call out so early in the morning.

His eyes—having started out blue at birth, had begun their change, both lightening and changing a bit differently from the other—blinked rapidly as he emerged from the den mouth, adjusting to the change in lighting. As they cleared, his gaze found his Mama, in the farthest reach of the glade, waiting. 

His little tail wagged fervently, seeming to propel himself toward her. Though he was as round as a fat groundhog prepping for winter, he could move, and he sure did, skidding to a stop before Druid. His little muzzle reached out to boop hers, giving a little lick to the tip of it before pulling back with a smile.

“G’mornin’, Mama! I’s hungry.” As he said so, his belly grumbled—loudly.