Poem of the Day

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White Mice


White mice sniff the air

Each time I spread fresh shavings

On their bedroom floor.


They climb the ladder,

Build a nest of woody curls,

And squeak with delight.


Blind, pink and naked

Newborns smell and propel to

Mother Mouse’s milk.


Older babies hide,

But I see their beady eyes,

Peering from safety.


Going unnoticed

From my cubby-house window,

I also look out


And note the bustle

Of backyard creatures; thankful

For my quiet space.


Lyn Oxley


  • Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #11



Lyn said: I incorporated Haiku style (5/7/5 syllables) into this poem to lengthen it, but kept the traditional appreciation for nature from a child’s point of view. Alliteration adds interest.



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