The Cottontail
watched me
climb
a steep hill
to meet her
at the Cross –
road.
She split the stone.
Datura delusions emerge
from this bloodline.
I stumble
down down down…
Her feet beat
a mourning drum
I’m in free fall.
Tropical mist
chokes mountain air.
What force
can annihilate
this hopeless story?
Both Hares
dead – one murdered,
the other abandoned
by the Moon.
Sara is a naturalist, ethologist ( a person who studies animals in their natural habitats) (former) Jungian Pattern Analyst, and a writer. She publishes her work regularly in a number of different venues and is presently living in Maine.
feminismandreligion.com 
Very sad. I hope things get cheerier pretty soon for all of us. Bright blessings!
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Oh so do I…
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Perhaps we can liken it to the pain of childbirth. There is life after this.
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Beautiful! Poignant! Wishing you a blessed All Hallow’s Eve and full moon!
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Having watched many cottontails these days in the California dry season, your poem moved me very much.
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Oh, the drought is taking a toll on every living being – just like the fires – too much of latter, too little of the former – Living with extremes takes energy i sometimes no longer have…
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