A mouse climbed from his house,
a burrow low in dirt and fetid earth.
He gazed into the sky,
saw there a hawk dance in pirouettes.
His heart beat fast, the dance, entranced.
He glanced again at the wonder of the raptor.
Saw there death and brilliance all at once.
toe by toe, on the branches of a whispering
He heard her sigh, “climb high” her words,
heard in the buzzing of his little head
so full of big ideas
He pulled with all of his tiny strength
Almost spent in the journey.
Until at last he reached the top
of the highest branch.
He felt a pulse beat in his chest
of a million mice before and a million more.
He glanced once more At the hawk,
a poem of flight. And then he jumped
into the arms of light.
– Dave Kavanagh