Hare

Hare

Tramping across the muddy field

Cropped corn-stalks crackle underfoot

Scrape and scratch the boots of many walkers

An advancing army of legs

And pounding tired feet

Which threaten a heavy beating

Of the shallow cover where he lies hidden

Still hoping to evade detection

When, at the very last second

His guile gives way to fear

And in a sudden scrambling and scrabbling

A scurry of noise and commotion

A blur of flashing, dashing action

And flurry of brown and grey and white

An exploding ball of energy

He darts away in unheeding panic

Springing, leaping, bounding from his hide

Escaping into the wide-open spaces

And the freedom of the field’s-length

At full speed, ears pinned back

And in seconds is a furlong far away

Where he can stop to pant

Rest his bursting lungs

And pounding tiny heart

Turning to regard us, wild-eyed

From the safety

Of his distant vantage point

Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2015