The hare hunkers
poured into form,
a dip in the land
becomes a hump of back.
Today the wind races
alone,
ruffles fur, flails folded sod
all ends
in a meanness of hedge.
Old orange eye opens
sparks with mad magic
just watches
just waits.
Speed sheathed
in sharp, folded lugs.
Minutes pass.
Hare stays still.
Not moving for
gas gun’s shout,
dog walker nor
road rumbler.
Tharn?
You?
The racer
the rascal
the needle-witted
the quick-scutted
dew-flirt?
You, the sitter-still