They appeared slowly
Like stars one by one
Vole holes
Holes from voles
Not a rat, nor mouse, nor mole
But a vole
Tracks from one hole to another
Blades of grass flattened by tiny feet
In the dead of night
In the light hours, they huddle
In dark underground tunnels
Dreaming vole dreams
Out of sight by the watchful attention
Of hawks, owls, and perturbed humans
Their doings impart a rather swiss cheese look to the lawn
I shrug
In thirty years here of fighting natures ways
I put them in the category of dandelions
Conceding defeat
For I know this equivalent of wild hamsters
Will party themselves out of existence
on the bottom of the food chain
leaving a lot of fat owls and smiling cats
Then life will go on
Leaving a multitude of empty holes
In my lawn.
