An Army of Field Mice
Field mice march on orders:
take the hill! On, march!
And so they go, a scuttling onslaught
of tiny toes and twitching whiskers
bending blades of grass.
Small teeth devour the dead,
whenever they're nudged by their
ordering, spasming nostrils.
ok, that's not bad: "onslaught of tiny toes"
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