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MARTI THE MOUSE
MARTI THE MOUSE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marti, a mouse of discerning taste,
strung his hammock.
not of woven reeds,
nor silken thread pilfered
from a sleeping giant's beard,
but dandelion floss,
a sun-bleached tapestry
between two golden towers.
He wrestled the fluff,
a Herculean feat for one so small,
tied knots with nimble paws,
cursing only slightly
when a rogue seed tickled his nose.
Now, he swung,
a furry pendulum
in a field of green,
eyes half-closed,
whiskers twitching
at the buzzing of a bee.
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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