Fine form

We lie low in the sun, flush with the furrows. Day dreaming.

We all love stretching out in our forms, belly dry

with whiskers fanned out.

Ah, but running is when we really stretch. Throw our legs forward and

around, striving to take off.

Why do you think we love the Moon? Our dreams are filled with gliding,

And not touching down. Then, to rest. We envy birds their wings.

Sloping fields are best, with a ridge. We can see the world,

and don’t like surprise visitors.

Our ears give us a proud silhouette. We are a fucking marvel,

Though best lit by the full Harvest moon.

We are mysterious. All or nothing.

We take our lovers when it pleases us, and boxing is our foreplay.

Yes, the joy is in the chase, and the consummation.

We are hares.


© Tom Tide 2016



One Comment Add yours

  1. Since I knew you loved hares and so I have thought about them myself, I believe they know something we don’t. This proves it. They have the secret of being proud just to be themselves. If only more of us felt the same …

    Liked by 1 person

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