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 can also be a boxing glove.

 

Can I love myself?

Does it matter if I swing and miss?

Does it matter if I fall down flat?

Doesn’t the team depend on me?

My ancestors and descendants

stare down from the stands.

Pelt me in an indecipherable sound that

may be cheers, boos or indifferent chatting.

 

Bunny love is funny love

but can also be 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 can also be a boxing glove.