Mouse sits on her front porch
beneath the oak tree,
reading, waiting for us, her teacups
and cakes close by,
and a fresh pot of tea ready to
share when we drop in
to catch up on The Glen’s news or to
hear a story told,
a tale of the woodland creatures
living there,
lives we imagine, lives we’d like
to live
tucked safely into this corner of
our imaginations,
a reality to return to when the
world grows cold
and angry, madness abounding, and feeling
alone,
needing time away, we return to the
Glen, a spot of tea
and cake and a story, a tale told
by Mouse or Rabbit,
The Glen come to life while the
world turns ever onward.
