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.
Beautifully done!