The Cottontail

Rocks cry under clouds pouring endless sweat
on green grass that dies slow in autumn.
The rabbit’s life grows cold and meets a fiery end.
Young was the sky that stood bold.

Shadows again hunt the black leafless night.
The sweetness is no more. Here comes he
an animal ghost laughing between
two unexplainable worlds.

It is quick with movement to steal air
carrying a joke that a jester couldn’t give.

The mystical trees paint the
coyote’s soul over a white canvas.
He answers quickly to the
injured rabbit’s eerie squeals
swiftly ending his struggle and pain
caused by the old man’s black Sedan,
as it journeyed the gravel road.

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