This Hare (Julia Harris)

There it is, this Hare it rests in this long grass
with a bunch of young eyes amassed
to look, to peer,  five or more young,
like a family on an outing, but to them it is their home
While Jack beats the common, to a hop when not in disturbance
then to a leap, to an arrangement of manoeuvres so well defined,
and executed,  set to every metre of ground, this pound
to silence, this pound to silence
Where in-between a contact reverberates,  a thud to vibrate as a drum inside
Boom Boom Boom, as if the sound of a rifle round, to echo, to ricochet in a narrow valley deep and long;
and within the chest it is heard by him, with ears back to be slim
aerodynamically set for the chase, it is not fun; not like for the helmeted cyclist,
no carbon fibre only survival as the continuation is driven as  his eyes are fixated upon, head motionless to a coordinated arousal; of escape;
bounding from the skies, hawks, kites
the reactionary ground force, to foxes and the suchlike;
and poachers  to be named. Fair game! For this hare
Oh what a name; I should say; being part of all this food chain to which all belonging goes. Whittled away, to be somewhat diminished. I guess it would be so.
The fur ripples and flows so light upon, to softly stretch and glide with every extension long: elastically recoiled to the ratio of fast and slow twitch fibre,
aligned to match this Hare’s intention, of being swift; simultaneously
with pace and distance timed, not measured by anything,  but this Hare knows
for how long he runs, for how long he goes, to be compared to the expected ultimate feat of a gold medal Pent Athlete, I have in mind.
This hare is the all evasive all- rounder, inhabiting the kind of ground,
a reminder of territory called before in literature; as withering heights;
fog bound in a silhouette, magnified in a perception of grandeur against rock weathered lichen and the howl of wind, the strike of lightening, as quick this Hare sparks to life; it is as frightening even for…….
and long has it has been this way as this Hare is an image out there, to forage,
in fitness, with camouflage and stillness; it is to a destiny  to see him to a flare
of one single breath, Nares open so wide to his racing heart inside, stopped!
To a moments animated suspension. Paused yet in a continuation, one tick to a spring where space and time ablates; where muscle is yet to activate;  to contract
Yes, as just one beat as slow, to stretch to beyond imagination
Now listen. Now listen.  Can I listen to my Own……..
There is nothing; there is not a sound. Only silence
For this Hare; it is a task it has to forever accept, to live a freedom in deliverance
and I see it now to be a  kind of wisdom to adopt; for this hare commits not…….
and lives its fullest without….
For to me, this Hare, I find, to be, forever empowering,
All inspiring…and may you as well, as in HIS HEART it is where THIS HARE belongs.

©2007RobinRBaldwin