Friday, July 30, 2010

Our Mole



Our Mole


She was my discovery
A hyper little black mole,
A thing smaller than my thumb.
She scurried under dry leaves,
And scuttled beneath the foliage
In between the patchy grass
Beside the sidewalk.

Find A bug here, and a worm there.
Truly, dinner is hard work
For a tiny nervous mole
Beside such a busy road;
When she has to scrounge for it
Underneath dry dead foliage
With little blind eyes.

I watched in amazement
Next to the wrought iron fence.
People hurried by blindly.
Cars and trucks rumbling past,
But she ignored all their threats
To eat her grubby dinner.
In her patch of dirt

We watched her, me and God,
Until I broke our silence,
And I said, "Only You, Lord,
Would have ever imagined
That there living in the dirt
Would be such a creature
With beautiful fur."



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