The End of the Weekend by Anthony Hecht.
"A long magnesium shaft
Of moonlight from the dormer cuts a path
Among the shatter skeletons of mice.
A great black presence beats its wings in wrath.
Above the boneyard burn its golden eyes.
some small greay fur is pulsing in its grip."
My improv, focusing on the imagry and alliteration used in above poem.
Particles of the planet,
suspended in a Ray of it's sun.
everything is dirty and dusty and decaying.
bones crunch under my black boots and I wonder,
do you think mice want second chances