Biosphere

Animals rarely creep inside my space
And rarer still are found and put to flight,
Yet grackles pecked to nest inside my place,
And spiders drop upon my head at night.

In Canada, a hundred baby mice
emerged from walls to scurry past my feet,
Not caring they disturbed a paradise,
Too busy fleeing rats to climb my sheets.

I shoo all vagrants out or squish them flat,
but those unseen are left to rest unsought.
The skunk beneath the stoop has gone to fat.

The gutters hold the squirrels still unfought.
Our game is just a little hide no seek,
And residence is granted only to the meek.