POEM


since i saw the mouse
the leaves dance like it
a gentle breeze that pushes one along
i'll believe it still with a second glance
scratches and scrapes where a mouse's belong


at first, just the colour, a pale, soft brown
illuminated by a low, bright sun
i'll move to the window and,
looking down,
expect to see the outline of one


Yet here, again,
the mousetail remains straight
for, after all, it's a stalk I spy
and instead of some cute, curved rodent's gait
the furs replaced
with a leaf blowing by

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++







image by b.graf