Dead Mouse

Dead Mouse

Who so often wonders who
an owl in tree-tops darkest night
hungry for a mouse to find
first light that falls upon the path.

We found a mouse dead in the path
uneaten buy its pray,
yet I cannot blame the owl
or hawk that hunger for his meat,

a tummy full to feed his young
hidden from their own foe.
Perhaps he might have lost his grip
when startled in the night.

I knelt down on my knees
looked closer for a cause,
but didn't even find a scratch
or ruffled coat.

His black eyes were clear,
his little ears intact,
fur glistening with health
left still to find the morning light.

I wonder if he might have run
into the night, found his true love waiting
a princess never promised
to a little gray mouse.

But, who knows for sure, not I,
my wonder satisfied.
There are just some things in life,
we never come to know.