A party of mice and their royal festival feast,
Consisted of olives, and bread baked with yeast.
One olive rolled, it rolled far away,
It rolled right to me, and there the fat olive lay.
I picked it up between my finger and thumb,
And then what I saw made me grow numb.
Across the wide boardwalk, from beneath the frothy sea,
Emerged a great fish, bigger than a whale could ever be.
Pale glassy eyes burned into the olive, green and round,
Clouds grew heavy and waves thrash around.
I drew the olive back, then hurled it with all my might,
Into the fish’s massive mouth without a drop of fright.
Then back into the sea the fish will descend, with a satisfied swallow,
And it may come back for another ripe olive tomorrow.