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0原著作者｜李欧·李奥尼
Food fills the belly, but poetry and beauty fill the soul
An old stone wall stood by the meadow A family of field mice lived inside the wall They loved to chatter and chirp all day long
The farmers moved away The barn stood empty
Winter was near The mice got busy
They gathered corn and nuts and wheat and straw They worked from dawn till dusk No one stopped No one except Frederick
Frederick, why don't you work
I do work, Frederick said
I'm gathering sun rays
Winter is cold and dark Sun rays are precious
Frederick sat in the meadow He stared into the distance
And now, Frederick
I'm gathering colors
Winter is grey and dull Colors are precious
Frederick's eyes were half-closed He looked half asleep
Are you dreaming, Frederick
I'm gathering words
Winter days are long We'll run out of things to say
Winter came The first snow fell
Five little field mice hid inside the wall
At first there was plenty to eat
They told stories about silly foxes and lazy cats They were a happy little family
But little by little the nuts ran out
The berries were gone The straw was all eaten The corn was just a memory
The wall was cold No one felt like talking
They remembered what Frederick had said
Sun rays and colors and words
Frederick, what about your supplies
Frederick climbed up on a big stone
Close your eyes, he said
Now I send you the sun's rays
Can you feel their golden glow
The four little mice really felt warmer
Was it Frederick's voice Was it magic
What about colors, Frederick
Close your eyes again
Frederick spoke of blue periwinkles Red poppies in the yellow wheat field And the green leaves of the berry bush
The mice saw those colors clearly Like a painting inside their minds
And the words, Frederick
Frederick cleared his throat He waited a moment
Like standing on a stage He recited a poem
Who scatters the snow Who melts the ice
Who lights up the moon Who dims the daylight
Four little field mice live in the sky Four little mice, just like you and I
One is the Spring mouse who turns on the showers
One is the Summer mouse who colors the flowers
One is the Fall mouse who brings nuts and wheat
One is the Winter mouse with cold little feet
Four seasons a year aren't we glad
What if we had one less, or one more than that
The poem ended They all clapped
Frederick, you're a poet
Frederick blushed He took a bow
He whispered Yes, I know
