by N. Scott Momaday
Imagine the space between here and there.
Vision holds upon an aura of the earth,
And on that nebulous band a bird appears.
It takes shape in the vagaries of light,
Becoming wholly its own definition.
It hangs inherently there, opposite the air.
Less the image, more the beholding, is true,
A perception of the wild that is wild itself.
This is an isolation that confirms the alien eye,
The bird, alone, appearing on the transparent field,
The middle distance.