I have put lettuce out
for the fawn eyed rabbits
quivering against their shadows
where the tender
shoots wrestle
with the dregs
of snow.
I am trying
to love the fragile
hopefulness
of spring,
without his footprints
to follow in.
I ask you my fourfooted ghost,
how in their innocence
do they know
to trust the world?
That it goes on and on
even without them.
