Mouse-Watch (Poetry)

Caught clean in a soft grey blade of moonlight
a mouse sits moveless, eyes wet and sharp
measuring the distance between clumps of grass
listening to the night sounds as they drift in on the chill air

The shadows over-stretched long and thin
dark stripes where the leaves stab blindly at nothing physical
and so the mouse waits, seeming not to trust this strange
                                                                        uneasy solitude

No sign of any shape or form familiar
no scurry in the dust to tell a tale
of nocturnal hunting at a grassroot level
no prowlers are in evidence —
                        neither predator nor prey

Mouse takes a risk and makes a sudden dart
across the open ground in eyeblink time
legs quick as clockwork to full tightness wound
then with heartbeat drumming fast stops dead ...
                                                        and sniffs around

Such a perilous journey for a small-boned creature
made through the darkness night after night after night
like a lonesome crusade or the arduous trek of a pilgrim
weary and hungry in search of a soul-saving bite

Then thick cloud hides the moon, thus a pitch curtain falls
and so what happens next no mere watcher might tell
if Mouse reaches his goal or (oh perish the thought!)
in blind Fate’s random manner ends up tragically caught
by the vigilant cat in whose garden he roams

Which of the two got lucky?
                                Well, God only knows ...