Thursday, June 7, 2012

rabbits run

by Marianne Betterly

They multiply in the shadows
hop on every  stitch of lawn
until soft fur and balls of white
cover shaven grass,
turning plots of green to
rivers of gray.

A rabbit rave repeats each night
in a jumble of silent leaps,
a frenzied ballet of cottontails
jumping to beats
only they can hear

until the moon rises and
the coyotes who watch
the lapidarian dance
join in,
changing the music to
tango abrazo
close embrace