Honesty on a Frosty Morning

Frost! Thick as snow it was,
and a miserable wind
prowled the verandah,
prying at door frames and window sashes
with icy fingers –
it couldn't get in,
but as I picked up the heavy doorstop,
a mouse ran through.
Snap, my foot on its tail
stopped it. And there we stood.
If I hadn't met those bright eyes with my own,
taken time to admire soft grey pelt
and nose that smelled my scent,
I'd have dropped that doorstop;
squashed mouse, finish.

If I let you live, I said,
will you promise not to chew my bread wrappers
or poo in my cupboards?
The mouse wriggled,
I can't give you any guarantees, it said.

I had to rest the suddenly too-heavy doorstop
on the counter; accidentally
lifted my foot … just a little.
Damn, it got away, that honest mouse
that wouldn't give any guarantees.

Oh that I could be so honest.