The wood mouse licks her tiny paws
To wash her pointed face
Her nest is neat, her young ones sleep
Then through the grass she darts and creeps
And never makes a sound.
There! A cricket hops away
She pounces on it quick
And there a beetle deftly caught
But this meal may be dearly bought
For keen eyes now awake.
Silent dive with claws outstretched
The boobook leaves no trace
Tonight her chicks will be well fed
But tiny mice snug in their bed
Find nothing when they wake.