Wednesday, July 9, 2014

Rabbit Burrow

Small fur, clean white
it runs, hopping, skipping the white stones
and fades beyond the tiny green bushes.
Swooping near the bushes I give it my hand
It burrows inside of my palm,
carving a way to the wind and slush of rain
Peter Rabbit burrows in my heart
to find his blue jacket
 before it runs beneath the fences in fear
of getting caught for loving lettuce too much.

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