“There are no Rabbits in the north-west.”
Ernest Thompson Seton
Wildlife artist, Author of The Boy Scout Handbook
Vigil
Damp day
Pacific Northwest
gray drizzle
weighting down
cedar bows
sword ferns
a rabbit
still as wood
egg-shaped
black walnut
fur glistening
in a grass
green field
indigo eyes
watching out
ears perked
and pink
twitching
listening
for barks
for growls
for flaps
of wing
for press
of paw
on needles
a hop
hop stop
an exhale
of clover
breath
repeat.
Day 17 and the optional NaPoWriMo prompt appealed to me, though I may have fallen short of the mark. The task was to write a poem describing something using at least three of the five senses. Contrary to what E.T.S. may have believed, our part of the country is lush with both evergreens and rabbits. The one above I saw as I was pulling up to a friend’s house at the edge of the forest. What luck! This, by the way, is why I never leave home without a camera (and a raincoat).
Still Life with Tortillas 
Love it!
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Yes! Where’s yours, love? Did I miss it?
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Wabbits everywhere, and you caught it. The stillness, the tentative movement. I have a tale about our main coon’s retirement as an outdoor cat the day he presented me with a live rabbit. Fortunately he had not pierced the poor thing’s skin, but he was in shock. Buster caterwauled from behind the screen door while I checked the rabbit out, no blood, then after about five minutes he “woke” and took of like a rocket!
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Wow! That’s really strange. Sort of like playing dead. I use to do that with my ex-husband. 🙂
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hahahahaaaaaa!
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like the ebb and flow the music and then the suddenness of it–even as i wanted to be carried by the melody you were establishing–which i find interesting—how captivated i was by the sing-song quality–and then muy rapido, it leaped off and away, disappearing into the grass!
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Sometimes a bunny just does that, eh? Thanks for stopping by on a maybe rainy day.
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