Across the garden
Yards from the house
A tiny bright-eyed field mouse
Reaches
Repeatedly
For the last few berries
Hanging low from the hedge
Throwing caution
To the chilly winter wind
It inches
Upwards
Branches shaking
Berries bouncing
Speckled wings flurry
Quick beak is blurry
And the berries are gone
writing in north norfolk 