A Mouse’s Prayer

0 constant moon,
you illuminate my tracks,
almost imperceptible
atop this thin blanket
of ice-crusted snow.

May you hide my scribblings
and nibbles
in shadowy corners,
and reveal for my shiny eyes
pearls of hard corn, crumbs
and paper boxes of flakes
I can gnaw holiness into.

Send a beam slantwise
into the farm window,
dresser drawer’s raggy nest
of tattered flannel
where my babes lie opaque
in woolen scraps;
where my warm lima beans
nestle together dreaming
six-small-parts-into-one
big mouse dream
of nut butters
and flecks of sharp cheddar.

I will scurry my prayer
across the stone mantel
beneath the clock:

My blessings on all cracks
          and cubbyholes,
my thanks for all things small
          and with seeds,
my wish for protection
          from owl eyes and traps,
and things with lids.

O moon, you see me
          when others do not,
you know my brown fur’s sheen,
          and you reflect for me
my own great smallness
in your immensely
dark and speckled sky.