“Little Red Rabbit”
As seen in the Charbonneau Observer.
Amid the northern plains off in a stand of willow A momma rabbit limped along Her pelt was apple hued, Her senses resolutely Trained on all that might go wrong She chewed the bramble bark and nimbly etched a trail When her youngest kit made for the mill pond Tout suite, the hind legs thumped, Her whiskers twitched as she jumped With a vinegar re-proach-e-ment: I know you want to stand tall with ears up high Just never let that sunshine catch your eye Red or white, day or night Your only choice comes down to fight or flight But when the snow is falling you don’t stand a chance Sticking out like an ember through the shadow You will be seen from the blind Where the dogged hunter pines Nevermore for the trappings of home Monsieur Pierre “le tueur de lapins” took a deep breath And smelled his quarry on the air The iron kissed his lips Like the bloody blow That lets a fighter know that he’s still there And so he shot — again and again Till nothing moved there anymore The smoke left the ground, And all was still without a sound Except the ringing he learned to ignore Now in the roots beneath the orchard’s tallest tree Her sweet babes have burrowed out a new den Each year they lift the pall When the first fruit falls Singing: “We remember when…“ She told us :: stand tall with ears up high Knowing everyone gets knocked around Red or white, day or night Bones will set, and the heart rebounds Remember :: stand tall with ears up high When you’re not so sure which way to go Red or white, day or night Your best foot forward is what brings you home