At the mouth of the river where tall grasses grow, <br />Where no hunter hunts with hounds nor bugles blow, <br />Where the carefreeness of life lets rabbits roll - <br />My thoughts go scampering softly down a rabbit hole. <br /> <br />And there they crouch where one with silver knife <br />Prods them into submissive shape and waits <br />To cut the gay blue carefreeness of life <br />Into a vicious haze of pain and hate. <br /> <br />Then with smiling red eyes and silver teeth they go, <br />My thoughts, to where the tall green grasses grow; <br />And hurling forward with a savage scream <br />They shock the rabbits from their rolling dream. <br /> <br />A flurry of frightened faces in the river: <br />My thoughts are mad with red and silver teeth, <br />And mad as frightened faces shiver <br />And swirl toward their sudden death.<br /><br />Tan Pratonix<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rabbits-3/
