A lovely poem by Rowan Robert Wyatt – his website can be found here.
Dancing above the tallest fronds of grass
The charcoal tips of ears, held aloft
The bobbing solitary giveaway of camouflaged brown.
Mad in March, boxing and chasing
Frolicking, mating rites in the sun
Seeing off stubborn suitors with a strong left hook.
Fooling around and chewing the grass
Few cares in the green meadow world
An eye on the ground and another firmly on the air.
Leverets little, brown bundles of fur
Born as the warm spring gives way
To summer, enticing, many chances for trouble and play.
The circle not to break as seasons pass
As spring, summer beget autumn, winter
And the hare plays on in the turning wheel of life.
© Rowan Robert Wyatt