The time is never certain 

For their arrival 

No one knows if they are hiding or scurrying and scampering about

Veiled by twilight

In search of a spot of vacant ground

Green and scrumptious to satiate their appetite

Hidden from the world 

A small piece of Eden 

With arches of intertwining leaves 

And what passes for a verdant meadow with places to disappear 

 

Unlike the wary rabbits, when the first cracks of sunshine appear at dawn 

Out of the previously guarded dwellings 

Comes the archenemy of the simple hare, 

Canines

Grouped, almost as a syndicate, are beasts groomed by their owners with care 

Hidden behind wagging tails, hanging tongues, and bared teeth

They wait to get out of their gates 

For the chance to clamor at any sign of life

Attempting to assert their dominance in yelps, howls, and growls 

Causing their prey to bolt while they prowl 

 

In the presence of such creatures 

How does the cottontail react? 

Only by observing their movements can one guess

The rabbits venture outside only after dusk

But that time is when the mob of canines are set free once more for their evening pursuit 

Marking the trees and streets with their scent 

But if the hare is unlucky and catches the fancy of the beast

It freezes like a statue, stuck in the eternal present 

Hoping that by being immobile 

Its existence will simply be ignored 

 

But the scent is unmistakable even if the body is unseen 

So the hare's only hope switches to the owner 

And like a God, the human can now decide 

Whether the lapin will live or die 

Will they hold on to the leash 

caging the screaming hound 

Or sick it on the frozen animal

Small, naive, and white-tailed 

Forever bound to the decision of man 

 

This is the small drama that plays out every night 

Across quiet lawns and empty streets 

Although the participants of the chase are mortal 

The hunt itself is immortal