Just An Idle Poem

A cargo plane, loaded with white rabbits, got lost in a heavenly storm and landed on the moon, the pilot declared himself king. The second pilot would have none of it, slew the pilot, declared a republic, with him as president, and freed the rabbits. When all the little bottles of booze planes carry for hospitality, were empty the president got depressed and threw himself; off the moon, was sucked up into a black hole and woke up on the Australian outback and got a job a camel rider with an all consuming hatred for airline pilots. The moon rabbits, however, thrived lived on nourishing dust and moon dew. But slowly they changed appearance and became moonbeams that lit up parks summer nights and make lovers swoon. A cynic may say they became inconsequent spectres, useless as a poem written for pleasure and lacking in moral judiciousness.