Little Citizen, Little Survivor
A brown rat has taken up residence with me. A little brown rat with pinkish ears and lovely Almond-shaped eyes. He and his wife live in the woodpile by my back door, and they are so equal I cannot tell which is which when they poke their noses out of the crevices among the sticks of firewood and then venture farther in search of sunflower seeds spilled from the feeder. I cannot tell you, dear friend, how glad I am to see them. I haven't seen a fox for years, or a mink, or A fisher cat, or an eagle or a porcupine; I haven't Seen any of my old company in the woods And the fields, we who used to live in such Close affection and admiration. Well, I remember When the coons would tap on my window, when The ravens would speak to me from the edge of their Little precipice. Where are they now? Everyone knows. Gone. Scattered in this terrible dispersal. But at least The brown rat that most people revile and fear And castigate has brought his wife to live with me Again. Welcome, little citizen, little survivor. Lend me your presence, and I will lend you mine.
[Hayden Carruth, Scrambled Eggs & Whiskey. Copper Canyon 1996]