Desert Snack

No room for error here

One strike is all I have

The lineup arrives

Mice approach from their mounds

I uncoil from my dugout

Silently awaiting a meal

Strike!

They balk at my body

Scored with pitch-black diamonds

Alas, they are too wound-up

I slump back

No catch for me

My plate empty

Palate devoid of fur-balls

Time for my battered body to rest