To Be Crepuscular
June 28th, 2022
Be the rabbit
The muted dust cloud of life, small enough to fit the grasp of a hawk’s talons, a child’s stubbed fingers
But although slight, the sight of him manages to bless the evening of anyone with the patience to spot him
He sits like the first buttercup of spring in a thick barren field,
A lost earring in a shag carpet
Be the rabbit,
He takes nothing from anyone,
But the fruit from a garden
And even then, he carries their seeds as a gentle host
And show them to a new place to grow
He takes only what he needs, yet when it is time,
He surrenders his body to the fox that chases for the lives of her hungry young.
Perhaps he runs,
Not for fear of death,
But for the love of life.
And in this life, he is at his most awake at dusk and dawn
But to him,
It does not matter whether the sun is rising or setting
He just feels the low sun kiss the thin of his ears,
And he does not consider whether the moment be dawn or dusk,
A beginning or an end,
He just embraces the citrus sky,
And knows that it is time to live.
