Owl

Lift more pieces
into us, America,
West of everywhere.

Here the animals
we've plucked
from books or fields, placed

into our hearts
like lanterns
imagining keener sense.

A white owl stopped me
once, by a barbed fence,
still with expanse.

Father become shark,
sisters hummingbirds, turtles in
the bay's brilliance.

An earth not only ours
but us, all charged
with self and yearning.

Here is the snow
from which a mouse
is lifted, dangling.

Copyright © 2006 Endi Hartigan All rights reserved
from New Orleans Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission