Photo Credit: D. Hammock
Abandoned
Grass sways by the abandoned house
I cower inside––a trembling mouse
exposed to the bright flash of day
when all else has gone away.
First my father, then my mum
go away and never come
again to shelter, feed or love.
Life is a winging mourning dove
that makes us and then flies away,
making green grass into hay,
the flush of life and then decay,
a harsh light turning shadows gray.
Life swells like paint–a curling blister.
It peels away my older sister,
then also takes my younger brother
and never comes to bring another.
A shadow passes over me.
A sparrowhawk. I dare not flee,
for life is mainly perilous.
It makes us just to feed on us.
Outside I see the preening cat.
It waits for me––patient and fat
in tall grass by the abandoned house
wherein I hide–a trembling mouse.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
Yes, this poem is maudlin, but also true. This is not my usual frame of mind, for it is balanced by the fact that we have to get as much enjoyment as possible out of the life we are given. Every point of view expressed in poetry need not be one’s most positive self. Reality demands that we see all sides of any situation. Then we choose which one to dwell on. This is one I touch on when I consider mortality. Then I fly away–not like the mourning dove, but hopefully like the lark.
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Call it maudlin if you must but it captures the essence of the word. Just saying . . . nice work!
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Thanks, Claudia.
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I would not mind but they get into everything; leaving a trail of urine and droppings. Once I foolishly left the new can of EVO with the spout up. One gnawed it’s way in. Then drowned in the oil. Thus wasting the 3 litres. … sigh.
When they’re outside, i try to protect their habitat. When in the house? Watch out … little mousie. Shrews however, i will tolerate. Cheers Jamie.
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I know. Rats or mice made a tremendous mess in my laundry room. They ate into all the boxes where I had stored cloth and other material. I had dogfood in large bags they ate through, so I put them heavy duty garbage containers and they chewed huge holes right through the plastic. Yes. We set traps!! Unfortunately, metal garbage cans aren’t available in Mexico, although I did eventually find a semi-large metal kitchen can with a footpedal. I am waiting for one rat to jump on the pedal while the other jumps into the can!! Ha.
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Well written Judy! These could very well be the feelings of an actual mouse, for they do end up losing their family members. Well it’s a different matter if they don’t care about this loss like we humans do. But then, possibly they don’t even recognize their family members. Can’t say.
I too wrote a mousy story last year. Have a read:
Thanks
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