Boldness.
A furry quiver of whiskered boldness first
sniffed then pawed the big world of grass
for summer attracted instinctive stirring
as scuffling life ran beneath my seat, fast
yet sightless sweet minute mice on a spree
posed for pictures and nibbled my tea-cake.
It beggars belief how unerring those three
little mouths fed until feasted enough, they
with snuffling squeaks then fell into a sleep.
Appearing soon their stress-ridden mother
and ushering home whisked each one between
warmed stones, all safely holed, I had begun
to doubt my eyes at such rarely seen sight when
out for a moment popped one weeny snout again.