While I watched out the bedroom window,
a rabbit, snow dusted as the lawn, crouched,
and then hared off sideways – its muscular roundness becoming
long and angular.
A small time later the dog
and I entered the woods.
I was walking slowly,
noticing the beauty of the natural forms made manifest
by the powdery snow – boulders, trees, and moss –
when the dog came bounding proudly up,
a rabbit stiff and headless between her jaws.
Not the same rabbit,
only,
under the same pale morning moon.
Sitting later, my mind plays the sprockety old film
of the first rabbit,
jack-knifing to freedom.
Leave a Reply