Restless
In the moist black hours
of midnight sleep
the wind pushed in
with sudden force,
swept up the dusty ground
like a broom.
Forced out of their secret corners,
under a canopy of pines,
the mice stormed by trailer.
They scurried up my tires
and invaded through invisible cracks.
Their evidence is clear—
tiny black droppings in drawers,
and footprints forgotten
in the dust outside.
So today, by gulps of caffeine,
and the frantic motion
of my pen across paper,
I’ll try once again to scrub them away.
