Little mouse
you were too long
for this world.
Sniffing and snuffling
in the dank, friendly cave
whiskers quivering
like curious antennae
catching distant vibrations.
Narrow eyes
the color of Rocky Columbine
seeing wide and deep
into Truths.
Little mouse
head like a dandelion puff
neck craning
brow straining
the sun shone on your face
too briefly
or perhaps
not warm enough.
You were too short
for this world.
What kind daemons
lurk in our depths
never fully known
or heard.
The tearing agonies
that claw
at great heights,
unseen babadooks
that coax
and beckon.
Little mouse
we may never know
if these were friend
or foe,
whether your skin
was too thin
or grew too-thick fur.
We only know
your loving arms stretched,
sprouted silver feathers
and took flight.
You were singular and alone.
You were too tall
for this world.
© S. Rinderle, May 2025
In memory of Seph Johnson
11/10/03 – 3/29/25
