Living with …

We get armour-plated armadillos, miniature;
at night-time slugs find squeeze-through aperture
– stretching, slithering with slimy, shiny trails – ugh!
until that entry point discovered, salted
– those visits of the quiet darkness halted;
mermaid-y silverfish who love old books
skitter from the light into dark, damp nooks
various arachnids weave, up high,
netting at the ceiling to catch a fly,
or scuttle into crevices to hoover away
unwelcome tiny skulking bugs as daily prey.
Occasionally a wasps’ home so skilfully made,
has to be destroyed – of multi-stings afraid.
If mice find a way in to search for food, or nest,
each one by cat or trap we sadly must arrest.    
In early autumn daddy-long-legs blunder in,
around the room they clutter, flutter, floundering;
and microscopic mites are everywhere
– the dust of skin we shed, their basic fare:

so though we do not have a pet to share our home,
innocuous creeping creatures constantly will come.

[IP: Living with animals]