In a cozy nest of hay and thread,
Beneath the barn near the flower bed,
A mama mouse gave birth one day
To squeaky babies, pink and gray.
Six little fuzzballs, round and small—
But Mousekin was the boldest of all.
With a twitch of his nose and a curious stare,
He asked big questions with thoughtful care.
“Mama, what’s that rumble and boom?
Why do the shadows race past the room?
Why does the wind sometimes whisper ‘run’?”
And Mama sighed, “Well, little one…”
“There’s much to learn in this wide old place.
There’s wonders, yes—but danger’s face.
Giants roam both near and far—
And not all wish to know who you are.”
Daddy Mouse stepped in with pride,
His whiskers curled and eyes wide-eyed.
“There’s one great beast, bright, loud, and red—
It growls and chomps and fills us with dread.”
“It zooms across the fields with might—
Blades spinning fast, a fearsome sight.
We call it the Lawn Roarer, son,
And when it comes, you leap and run!”
Mama added, “You must beware
Of traps with treats that lure and snare.
Some smell like peanut butter bliss,
But one small nibble—and you’re missed.”
“There’s sticky boards that never budge,
And snap traps sprung by just a nudge.
And cats—oh, they are quick and sleek,
With padded paws and eyes that peek.”
“There’s dogs who bark and chase with glee,
Not knowing we just want to flee.
And high above, the birds patrol—
With wings like sails and eyes like coal.”
“They dive from clouds, without a peep,
With talons strong and dives so steep.
You see their shadow—don’t ask why.
Just drop and dash, or say goodbye.”
Mousekin shuddered. “Is that the worst?”
Mama smirked, “You haven’t heard the first!
There’s womenfolk with ears too keen,
Who shriek like banshees when we’re seen!”
“They jump on chairs, they throw their shoes,
Like we’re a headline on the news!
They flail their arms, they stomp and spin—
As if we brought the plague again!”
Daddy grinned, “And men, oh boy—
They treat the chase like some big toy.
They’ll grab a boot and stomp around,
Like hunting mice is honor-bound!”
—
But Mama Mouse, with a gentle sigh,
Looked down at Mousekin eye to eye.
“The world’s not just a scary place—
There’s joy and hope in every space.”
“There’s clover soft and puddles sweet,
And sunshine warm on tiny feet.
There’s porch-crumb feasts and tunnels deep,
And dandelions when we can’t sleep.”
—
Then came the day, bright as gold,
When Mousekin felt the earth unfold.
The Roarer growled, its engine loud—
It tore through grass like thundercloud.
A woman rode it, firm and fair,
White hair piled high with gentle care.
Pink sundress flowing, brace on her back,
She mowed with style, strength, and knack.
Mousekin heard the buzzing hum—
The ground began to shake and thrum.
“Now’s the time,” he told his toes,
And off he zipped before it closed.
He darted left, he veered to right,
He danced with grass and beams of light.
Past bugs and birds and butterflies—
With dandelions blooming where danger lies.
He didn’t stop, not once to peek—
He sprinted fast, he didn’t squeak.
And when he reached a shady log,
He laughed and sighed beside a frog.
—
🌼
The Moral:
The world is loud, the giants stomp,
Some shriek and point, some boots will clomp.
But even small ones, brave and bright,
Can face the day and flee the fright.
So run with heart, and keep your spark—
You can be bold when life feels dark.
Be swift. Be smart. Be soft. Be sly—
And never be too small to try. 💖🐭
🌼
