(Me up at does)

— a poem by E. E. Cummings

“Me up at does

out of the floor

quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What

have i done that

You wouldn’t have”

Although quite poignant, I’ve always appreciated this poem by E. E. Cummings.  I think it is a fine example of his remarkable economy of language, his touching sense of empathy, and his unmistakable signature style: a seemingly mixed-up, punctuation-free stagger of words which, upon closer inspection, actually turns out to be a carefully constructed poetic flow of thoughts and ideas.  Like a lot of great art, Cummings’ poetry isn’t spoon-fed to the viewer.  It requires effort and attention.  But, in the end, it is always worth the journey.

Quite fortunately, the little mouse in the image above was destined for a more happy fate than the mouse in Cummings’ verse.  A couple of nights ago, while we languished in a Tryptophan-induced haze, this little fellow took us completely by surprise by scampering across the interior of a ceiling light fixture.  Following his spry shadow, I slid the lamp shade aside and revealed a tiny gray mouse huddled in a corner.  As soon as we saw his earnest little face, we knew that we had to devise a plan of rescue.  We named him “Buford.”  He graciously posed for a portrait.  Then, after some careful thought and planning, we proceeded to use a combination of kitchen implements, a folding chair, and some gentle coaxing to safely retrieve him from the ceiling fixture.  For his bravery, he was treated to some Thanksgiving leftovers.  What a feast!  Then, with a full belly and an unbelievable story to tell, we released him into the night.  Godspeed, Buford.  And Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!