The Carpenter and the Mouse.. #Poetry

The Carpenter and the Mouse

Up the empty side aisle 
a brown field mouse scuttered,
climbed the white marble steps,
and bowed to the Lady.
Neither mate nor children
accompanied her now,
her mate caught by a fox,
and her first tiny pups 
born dead before their time,

The quiet old grave yard
and church were her refuge,
for she went unnoticed there,
a place where she could mourn,
and beneath a soft red light
pour out her misery
to the sweet Lady in blue,
who seemed to smile at her
from her plinth of old stone.

But this night, in the nave,
there was a light beyond 
the old wood carved screen
where a carpenter sat,
his bag of tools nestling
alongside his oak stool.
a flask of hot coffee
and sugar close to hand,
yellow crumbs at his feet.

The mouse sniffed the air        
and crept slowly forward,
hunger driving away fear.
The man smiled and whispered
“Perhaps, Little One, you 
will take some of my cheese
back to your hideaway
behind the shepherd’s tomb
close to the churchyard wall?”

But no longer afraid,
the field mouse ate her fill
of the cheese he offered,
washed her paws and whiskers,
and settled down to sleep.
The young carpenter sat
carving a piece of oak,
the first of a thousand
mice to adorn his works.

At dawn the Yorkshire mouse
woke to find the new sun
streaming through the windows
of lapis, amber and green,
and recognised new life
coursing through her small veins.
Full of love and fresh hope,
warming with happiness,
she sped back to her nest.

There she gave thanks both to God 
and to Mousey Thompson of Kilburn.

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