The Hare’s Eyes(For Bud)

Long before I knew of Kung-Fu (and all hares were rabbits) we lay stretched out my uncle & I pinned to a hillside the world creating itself as a little boy painting it would all blue sky & fluffy white cloud green grass painted just so ...so, perfect. Birds transforming the air into song & here even a hare so near you can see every hair in exquisite detail sitting beside us as if he was one of us as if he was about to say: “Good day…lovely day isn’t it? ” But before he could say it my uncle moving without moving (I hardly even saw him leave his stillness) Kung-fu’d the little chap (only the sound of a quick slap) with the anonymous anger of the back of his hand both hare & I quivering with shock “Well, boy... that’s one for the pot! ” I got sick with the twist of the neck my uncle chortling popping him in his pocket. That night everyone ate greedily praised the stew praised my uncle too. I (not hungry) crying in bed ...still looking into the hare’s eyes.