THE OWL AND THE MOUSE

She is dreaming she is a small creature

swift and fragile

locked to earth’s giant bones

snug in long tunnels—

a plain gray field mouse.

Out of the hunting wind,

imperious swoop and wing-span,

terrible, wide-than-God face,

beautiful brown-shadowed moon face

of the owl with her ruffled feathers

floating down nearer and nearer

where she, terrified and in love,

opens herself in a sacrifice of delirium

to the narrowing space between them.

Copyright © Susan McCaslin