Rabbit by Zoologist

Tonight, the air is green with clover, hay and little clumps of grasses on the breeze,unsettled dirt, the dusty mysteries of rabbits tunnelling the dark. They stray
into the meadow, sniff the wind—bouquet of violets. They hop in twos and threes,
their shadows cotton-tailed. Or else they freezewhen something feathered screeches far away.They stand like tufted stones. But now the nightgoes soft and jasmine-sweet again. A scent of petals presses to their fur. There’s fruitto eat. There is the skittering delightof digging into earth, the sediment of dreams perfumed with carrot-top and root.
– Jehanne Dubrow