Here, the vulture had come from the pond.
His pride was lower than ever before.
He began to drink as the day looked on:
The trees, the rocks, the sky, the dawn
Were his only friends, not one friend more.
The bird bent his head back to scratch his wing
When he saw five tiny figures scurry over the rocks.
The mouse and his sons had come to the spring.
They stood near the vulture and said not a thing
And began to drink deeply with no air to talk.
After a while, the four mice children were done.
Quenched of their thirst, they huddled and slept.
Mr. Mouse said a prayer of thanks for his sons.
Then he realized: “I have them. The vulture has none.”
So he turned to the vulture unsure what to expect.
“Hello, sir.” The nervous mouse said.
“I had thought we’d get rain. We’ve sunshine instead.
Did you see those flowers in the valley bed?”
The vulture did not make a sound.
He only waddled a few feet away.
The mouse was not usually wanted around.
But he had seen the vulture do nothing but frown.
The mouse wanted to help; so he decided to stay.
“Where are you from?” The small voice was heard
As the mouse scurried forward and sat by the bird.
“Do you have a family? Are they all feathered or furred?”
The vulture did not know what to do.
No one ever approached who wasn’t afraid.
He looked at the mouse, the rodent, the shrew,
As it stood, without fear, without harshness too,
Next to this creature all others evade.
The vulture gave out a grunt and a hiss.
The mouse was startled a moment or two.
He had not been expecting this.
But he quickly saw what other’s had missed:
Hissing and grunting were all the vulture could do.
So, after a pause, the mouse squeaked:
“I have never heard a wiser voice.
There is only a rush to the sound of the creek.
There is only a rustle in the leaves when they speak.
Your voice is simple and sure; it’ an excellent choice.”
The two creatures spoke for an hour or so.
The mouse, in a way, taught the vulture to talk.
A hiss was yes, a grunt was no.
The sun fell low; it was time to go.
The mice returned to their nest, the bird to his loft.
That night it rained, and poured, and squalled;
A storm so great that even Noah would flee.
The floor of the barn held the animals’ stalls.
The rising water had flooded them all.
So the animals escaped to a hill and huddled under a tree.