There’s front yard hustle

in the gelid whisk of morning.

They wake us,

cotton-tails,

pitter-patter puffs of

rabbit-breath

before the prairie rises.

The wild hares

lived where we lived,

drank coffee with me on

January cockcrows,

snuggled beneath our trailers.

Bunny legs, elegant gangle

nested under our home

in daybreak,

twighlight.

Their elvish

bounds found

us,

kept our promises.

made us happier.

were our friends.

They were adorable.

I fell in love.

We were relieved they weren’t mice.