Bunny Love
(A Bop)
A hawk stares down on me
from high above, I see a dove.
Naïve bunny that I am
I bop along sunny bunny trail
grass beaten down just enough
to show me where to go.
Bunny love is funny love
but also is a boxing glove.
Can I love this creation?
Does it matter if I swing and miss?
Does it matter if I fall down flat?
The team depends on me.
My ancestors and descendants
stare down from the stands.
It’s hard to tell if the rain I feel
is cheering, booing or just indifferent chatting.
Bunny love is funny love
but also is a boxing glove.
I need to figure out what to do
but there is nothing to figure out.
I need to be in this moment
as if the stands aren’t there
as if everything and nothing are the same
as if the answer is a little further down this bunny trail.
Bunny love is funny love
but also is a boxing glove.
Love the light feeling of the way this reads, but it’s deceiving with some heavier symbolism. I like these lines, “My ancestors and descendants / stare down from the stands.” that show the connectedness of this being to a past, and the weighty responsibility of continuing a future of those ancestors and for the descendants.