To The Prairie Mouse
By: Stacey Dracadancer
Done in December of 2002 for extra credit
in Forages class after watching hours of
deathly dull videos on prairie poems.

Oh little deer mouse
Living in your prairie house,
Nothing more than a hole in the land
Covered by loam and sand.
The fertile soil you make your bed,
Upon which you rest your tiny head.
The tall prairie grasses above you sway,
While you sleep the day away.
Little bluestem, sideoats grama, needlegrass,
You know them all as you pass.
By sight and smell, with taste so sweet
All of them a special treat.
Their seeds, they nourish you in the cold,
Their leaves, they protect you from the bold,
That would have you for their prey
On a frigid prairie winters day.
But do you know, tiny mouse so quaint,
That your prairie grows ever faint.
Your domain decreases by the day,
So do not waste your life away
Sleeping under the prairie sun
While the land becomes undone.
The crops go up, the grass comes down
And soon you will be the only one around.
What then, little mouse, will you do?
Can you start your life anew,
Without the prairie there to give
The life that you so love to live?