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