Quiet

Quiet is the mouse that scampers through the field, 

Who uses the cloak of little gestures 

Or the shadow of the night 

To escape the encroaching enemies on all sides, 

To disappear. 

The mouse becomes what others cannot, 

Quiet cutting crossly quickly,

 Through blades of grass,

 The quiet one the one you least expect,

Yet the one that will do the deed first.