Death of a Mossy Mouse

Death of a Mossy Mouse

The lovely vale was covered with fog

Cold, wet and dead like log.

The frowning look of angry sky

Colored my way with filthy dye.

My heart raced the darkened white

Of lazy snow, the hazy sight.

I dragged my legs to feel more number

Above the earth of sick December.

Freezing heel with stinking toes

Landed hard on a weathered rose

Crushing flat the sheltered guest;

A mossy mouse in a drunken haste.