My Encounter.
I met, yesterday, a miniscule bubble of spirit
bumbling across my path,
a bundle of shrew-fur no bigger than a small
human thumb gladly
enjoying a trip from perhaps some out-grown
nest, a miniature burst
of living-soul bent on scenting new adventure.
No doubt out on a first
spree his rank curiosity rendered him fearless
of a giant like me
so I was ignored as he for one moment gloried
in scuttling along,
discovering feet got wet in puddles, pink nose
at strange odours puckered
as whiskering each leaf he patted green stalks
of exciting sea-grass until
shivering stopped him from more distraction.
The tiniest mouse doing what
any young offspring attempts when exploring
fresh paths ran skittish riot
and I thought with a grin if mice-life can laugh
as his tongue up-tilted to try
nibbling my bag that I saw him doing just that.
Looking at autumn storm-clouds
on the horizon and fast approaching I, wishing
him well had to hurry on
home while as he scurried at last down a hole
I know I will ever remember
my encounter with that tiny adventurous scrap.