The orange moon
Smolders in curly white smoke,
As large as Chagall would paint it-
Wearing so many kind faces

I feel I must know them
they are here for me
across time
To repay some favor, maybe
made in some other lifetime

Three rabbits stand in the empty lot
Two are preparing their ritual dance
The third is a sentry, and taking it seriously

One jumps high on the air
to find the secret staircase
which reaches the moon’s doorjamb

Birth life death
Mind body soul
Three rabbits appear

Swiftly, swiftly,
New Beginnings appear

It’s not the first time
that three rabbits have caught my attention
punctuating the air with silent raucous purpose
just as someone
who smiles and laughter
have been near
from my earliest youth
has unwound nearly all of their golden thread.