The strange habits of rabbits
That she would scratch a burrow
In the middle of the yard
And lay her babies there like gifts
To any passing cat or hawk
To have put all her stock in gentleness
A calm defenselessness seems dumb
As the empty tomb she leaves behind
We run to find the bodies gone
Already the grass growing over
Childhood's helplessness again
A fable buried in a breeze
Leftover from another world
Or (feel it) one to come
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