The Stone Hare


Think of it waiting three hundred million years,  

not a hare hiding in the last stand of wheat,

but a premonition of stone, a moonlit reef  

where corals reach for the light through clear  

waters of warm Palaeozoic seas.  

In its limbs lies the story of the earth,  

the living ocean, then the slow birth  

of limestone from the long trajectories  

of starfish, feather stars, crinoids and crushed shells  

that fill with calcite, harden, wait for the quarryman,  

the timed explosion and the sculptor's hand.  

Then the hare, its eye a planet, springs from the chisel  

to stand in the grass, moonlight's muscle and bone,  

the stems of sea lilies slowly turned to stone.