The Death of the Snowshoe Hare

31 Aug

This is a poem I wrote at Bob’s Lake about an experience my niece, Meghan, and I had while there.  It’s a Shakespearean sonnet.

 

 

The Death of the Snowshoe Hare

 

Meghan looks to the ditch in wonder at

The brown rabbit writhing in the tall grass.

We stand shoulder to shoulder beside it;

Neither of us wants this moment to pass.

Afraid to move and disturb Death’s embrace,

Frozen, we wait solemnly at his side.

The front legs jerk forward toward the sleek face,

Then all movement ceases and she says, “He died.”

The eyes turn glassy and the body stiffens.

I wedge my foot beneath the furry corpse–

The neck falls open and the death bite glistens.

Something in me twists, turns, and warps.

My niece’s dog prances happily before us.

He barks as though to say, “What’s the fuss?”

 

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