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.