Hare

A child of the moon Sovereign lord in the revels of wood and glen Drinker of stars floating in midnight pools Hare is happiest with fireflies, dewdrops An eye moist as a grape He dances over the quilted fields Lithe as a porpoise, an acrobat of the grass His whiskers are slim moustaches Dabbled with wet. Inscrutable hare Lord of the leap and the elusive air Long shanked drummer of the brae He melts in diaphanous dawn Jaunty, boisterous, voyager through the moss Always kicking away his trailing shadow Up he springs wherever you least expect him A streak of fur, trying to be a cloud Fast as a hawk, a panther, Swallowing strides of corn in high delight Alone, obscure, eccentric in his ways His ears drink down the sonorous notes of nightjars He’s a four legged fable, untamed, in love with flight He’s the blur in the chiaroscuro of winter twigs Goblin swift, set fair for hidden pastures A whim, a whimsy, he soars like a juggler’s ball Up tilting nose savouring the blown dog rose Tasting the sacrament of silken grasses He is the spirit of the corn, the backdrop of dreams His element is the wind that salts his tail Haphazardly he lives by fits and starts And at the end, his requiem’s Sky burial, the crows bring transformation Ah, then the cricket will not wake him Clacking its castonets Nor the owl with its harlequin face Hooting his funeral rites