The Mouse

The mouse

My wife was opening the door to the verandah
when she spotted a mouse and fled to the kitchen
and shouted, “Kill it, kill it!”
I picked up the small animal hiding under a dry leaf
that had yet to be blown away, careful not to be bitten
soon the mouse relaxed in the palm of my hand.
I marvelled about this tiny thing; how did it get on
the seventh floor must have been climbing up at night
got lost or tired and rested on our terrace
There was no way I was going to kill it if there had
been hundreds of them on the terrace, I would have been
less friendly, seen them as vermin 
Looked over the railing under me on another terrace, dropped
the mouse there, it landed softly alive and well, quickly shut 
the door, now the mouse was no longer my problem.
At lunch, in the café on the first floor, there was talk
about someone finding a mouse, “infestation?” she said
No, darling, there is only one little mouse.

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