image from Hope at pinterest.com
This poem is dedicated to the field mice who live in the empty fields adjacent to our subdivision. With temperatures getting colder, they seek refuge in our garages. Such clever little survivalists.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Our garage door's gap looked mighty fine to Randy the mouse from the neighboring vine. "My very own Airbnb!" squeaked he. "But only one star,” he said to the nearby flea Left a scathing Yelp review: "Needs less sunshine."
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