Bluefish
We once threw
empty soda cans out bus windows,
thoughtless
as all of our kind.
Mice, rabbits.
That changed.
The highways grew prettier.
On one coast, we ate Oregon forests.
On the other, cod banks and bluefish.
Teethed, we were.
Handed.
Mammals needing to nap,
to leap a little when happy or frightened.
—Jane Hirshfield
—found in World Literature Today (Summer 2019)