Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

a sound drowsily heard
sometime during the night -
a small item
falling from a shelf
to the floor -
opening salvo
to the annual invasion
of the mice

nice little mice slice and dice
they take advantage
they are brazen and taunting
so far a heavy population
the war begins

i love the poem

they can get in through miniscule holes
and are not funny like mickey

I've never heard of a house
they couldn't enter, they chip away
at the mortar, push between the lap siding
or maybe it's that frieze at the ceiling
that old baseboard where the floor
slightly sunk, that shoe molding missing
where the gas line comes in to fuel the stove
a pencil-size hole perhaps or less
they know what they're doing

First Blood

it started with debris from the compost basket
greeting me on the counter each mornng...
once, a shred of garlic paper
once, a butternut squash seed
once, a faint trail of coffee grounds...
so I placed a trap
unbaited
unset
on what I assumed
was the intruder's highway
left it there for a few nights
for the midnight marauder
to get accustomed to
until last night...
baited, set -
and lo, this morning
a plump deceased mouse in its jaws...
he now lays outside
awaiting proper disposal
by the scavengers

mice, poison consuming, species chomping, mighty mutant developing mice - yikes.
mice power
bring on the cats

judih
blessed be her memory

Pure terror
both in singular or plural
( it must be traumatical memories from the middle ages)

Thanks s-t for bringing Judih's smile and memory to the thread