Mice

pull back

the curtain

show the animal world

what you own

what you’ve imagined

what most won’t get

mice freak

when you lift

the broken pot

they’ve chosen for

a moment

to crawl under

tiny black beads of eyes

stare into your eyes

from the space left

by stolen shelter

frightened they

pivot

dart turn back

scurry

pause on gripping claws

squeeze through cracks

in your foundation walls

escape to another

small place

go on about the business

of being mice

weaving nests of grass

gathering dry seeds

breeding nurturing

soft pink pups

from nose to tail

they know death

is a hawk

black snake or fox

or giant like you

they live and die

and in between

(like we the people)

leave a few

inconvenient droppings

in the larders

pantries

basements of

your grand houses