It’s Easter eve and rabbits
venture out, all brown furtive and rheumy eyes
teeth like chisels–we watch
them swift around the plaza skittering on stone–
bunnies ripe as melon for midnight ventures
scavenging for greens between one cobble and the next
by the illume of the moon.
Hard to walk without kicking a rabbit I say
performing a side step nimble
my bunny dance.
Always like watching
I say—my companion nods
and tosses a rabbit through the dark air.
A gesture of love. I believe