I keep forgetting we need floss and baby carrots
Until I brush my teeth or fix my husband’s lunch.
Starting a list, I add shampoo and dog food.
I am on a quest to find food the dog likes.
Rumbling in the stove drawer, a mouse tries to
Take poisonous bait but must be too large for my trap.
The dog and I hear it late while others sleep,
But the food is untouched and the trap mouse-less
In the morning. “Better mouse trap,” I write on my paper
as the dog lifts his head, ears perked,
And fixes his gaze on the stove.
Rain rat-a-tats on the roof of this tiny, old cottage
And I think it will help bring sleep.
“I don’t buy those because I know where they come from,”
An old lady said the last time I put baby carrots in my cart.
A barred owl hoots, hauntingly, outside the kitchen window.
“It is their mating season,” a neighbor had mentioned to me
As we spoke, briefly, while I walked Crash.
The scent of a burning pineapple-mango candle begins to overwhelm me.
As I blow it out, Crash and I hear fluttering,
Low, against the outer wall behind the stove.
And I scratch “better mouse trap” off my list.