David Welch Poet Light Verse

Ninja Rabbit

A shape darts on half-melted snow,
low and hunched in the twilight dim,
I just barely catch glimpse of him,
fleet movements in ninja-like flow.

He somehow seems to know I watch
through French windows of aging glass;
jolts once and then he scampers fast
to the pile of landscape rocks.

Then off again, sprints for the shed,
a black blur in the gray of morn,
his movements furtive and forlorn,
as if seeing dark times ahead.

I wonder if he’ll sit and wait,
like Python’s critter, cruel and mean,
to ambush me amidst the sheen
of distant purple from day’s break.

But I don’t think he’s such a fool,
just looks the part from shadows’ play,
strange how the misty times of day
can even make rabbits look cool.

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