Ever wondered what wild mice dream of, hidden in the undergrowth, watching the world go by above their heads?
Dancing in light washing through green leaves and petals of every hue, stained glass windows in an earthy cathedral;
hiding in burrows away from stomping paws and razor beaks, safe and sound and warm beneath delicately decorated roofs;
bathing in raindrops as big as their ears, dripping from grasses arched like roofs and tiny cupped wildflowers drooped like streetlamps;
and watching the stars splashed across the skies at night, pinpricks in the velvety darkness, circling, twirling, ticking.