To a Jerboa:
Dear little creature, mostly eyes and legs,
how well I know you have a holy place
in God’s own mansions—all creation begs
to let you sleep within his comfort’s grace.
Dear intuition, full of certainty,
how well I do not trust you, though I do
in this case, for I cannot let it be
that ones like these are not in heaven’s view.
Dear heaven, do you see this little one?
This one who so deserves thee more than me?
Of any creature underneath the Sun,
they’ve earned more of thy presence than have we.
But if you’ve told us what you have, I trust
you tell it, too, to them who are more just.