Rabbit’s Foot
Her black bugged
eyes peer out between hosta
and hydrangea in the flower bed.
Mottled brown fur, blood
vessels inked red on the paper-
thin maps of her ears,
a whiskery nose twitch.
When she jumps away, one foot
flops grotesquely behind.
She seems unbothered by the dead
weight, a burden born,
perhaps, by narrow escape
from a tire’s tread or the jaws
of a fox. This morning she’s alive –
how lucky.
17 thoughts on "Rabbit’s Foot"
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” between hosta and hydrangea ”
and ” inked red on the paper thin maps ”
Nice !!!
Thanks so much!
Your observant eye is so fine, Chelsie. Love the end, how encompassing it feels.
Thanks! Was glad for this bunny being in my yard so I could write about her!
My father once ran over a rabbit with a lawn mower, severing its leg. He tossed the bunny to the high thatch, trying to give it a chance to survive in a place with lots of food. I like to think the two rabbits are related. Thanks.
Aww! I am just now seeing this comment. Love the story.
I love this poem!
Paper thin maps of her ears
a whiskery nose twitch
unbothered by the dead weight, a burden born
she’s alive
Thank you, Julie!
Beautiful meditation/observation. Perfect ending.
Thank you, Linda!
I love all of this but especially the map of veins.
Thanks!
This is a beautiful meditation and reminder–how lucky. Great word sounds too
Thank you!
at first i read that as ‘whiskey nose’ 🙂
sweet poem, i’m here for all bunny content.
i’m ready to hear the fox-jaw side of the story now..
Thank you…good idea! I’ll think on that.
Ah I love this. The play by play. Playful. Yet fierce reminder of gratitude, but also the purpose our scares hold. Especially when we get to live another day