Mouse in the Morning
that pops out and zips about
the roof of my neighbor's house.
Its raised fur buttered by a blade
of sun without the marmalade
of shadow, it clearly displays
a purpose that does not crumble
like cornbread--when fingers fumble
lifting it from the dinner table.
This new day's search hides the strain
of last night’s hunger through the rain.
The pin nose fishes in the rain
gutter for soggy crumbs in the soup
that cools as it drains off the roof.
A hungry mouth has nothing to lose.
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