Almost half of the carrots
were nibbled before we pulled
them from the ground.
Oh the mice this year
have been happy mice
with plenty to eat in my garden.
I remember the Yinnuwok legend
about how the mice were once
blunt nosed and ugly,
but because Mouse so beautifully
mended the clothes of the maker of magic
he rewarded Mouse
with a sharp pointy nose
made for sniffing out food and
a soft silky coat so that Mouse
could more easily slip
into tiny holes
when his enemies come.
Today I am the enemy.
Even so, I marvel how quick
the mice are to find our stash
beneath the spigot for rinsing,
how sprightly they escape into invisible holes
in the ground when I chase them away.
I would not be able to bless them,
not today when frustration
is more weight than word.
Still, after processing, when my son suggests
that we take the waste ends of the carrots
out to the field as a gift to the mice,
I say yes. It is not out of love
for the mice, but love for my boy
and his big and growing heart.
They say no good deed goes
unpunished. They say that the magic maker
stroked Mouse’s hair with his fingers
and that was what made it shine.
They say do unto others as you …
I stroke my son’s hair,
still boyishly gold, before he walks
out the door with his small offering
and throws the ends into the field.
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