OUTED

Today was a day they wished we’d stayed in bed,

But alas, we’d resolved to clean the garden shed.

“They,” four little furries sleeping peacefully hidden,

in between rakes, stakes, mower and midden.

The first one I outed made for the door.

The second took a dive down a hole in the floor.

The third one, God only knows where it landed,

when it leapt from the box which I had been handed,

‘cause the box, too, took flight. Yes, I freaked. What a sight!

But really, can you blame me when I had such a fright?

Besides, who knew they could scurry so fast! 

When clearly, at stake was their sorry little ass.

While the remains of this day soon become history,

the whereabouts of that last vermin linger in mystery.

As I reckon where that little beady-eye wanders

The tippy tip tip of my frontal lobe ponders;

if we humans keep choosing our fight or flight brain,

as a species we can’t help but go down the drain.

But enough for now, time to quit all my gritchin’,

I just got word, there’s a mouse in the kitchen.