Best Burrow Poems
extensive empire
vast confiscated castles ~
no time for bumbling
My heart lays within the burrow.
In the stillness of this place there is beauty, its envelopes the terrain.
Softness is embodied in the rich colors of both shade and hue.
Lush emerald herbage, grass swaying within the current that embraces you.
Twilight, a glistening blanket ensnared within the ebony backdrop.
There is an abundance of life, it thrives in the meadow.
To the wolves who bay.
To the coyotes that cackle.
There is life within the burrow.
May you play in the evergreen for an eternity, your mind privy to time.
Chase the swiftness of the jack rabbit, paw at passing fireflies.
Nestle yourself among the comforts of the vegetation, embrace both warmth and wonder.
Incarnate is this place.
For my heart lays within the burrow and as do you, as do you
Chasing Rabbit
By: Iris Roberts
Chapter II
“The Burrow”
Now Alice danced drunkenly up the green pathway ahead and tripped with a
giddy cackle as she said, “Mr. Rabbit, where are we going; I am feeling rather drawn to this place that is unknowing?.”
He wiggled his nose, and with his two fingers stretched out over his whisker, stood in a firm pose; “Who knows girl, but does it matter, for this place is like no other.” “I believe this one has a divine mother.”
So he leaned over and kissed her hand to wink at her ever so slightly; “Alice, come now we mustn’t wait, see look at my watch here, it is getting way too late.” She then replied, “Wow Mr. Rabbit, this is a lot to take in, but I have nothing to lose, so let’s begin.”
“Alright, Alice that’s the ticket, here we go further down the burrow, see the path?” As she hastily kneeled down, she peeked inside to see only darkness; she was very intrigued. “So dear, it’s very clear, you must need some help,
So I’ll push you near.” The rabbit chuckled as he followed along.
She screamed as she fell beneath a dark void; a slip in consciousness
she could not avoid.
Riddle
Into the darkness we all must follow, into a land of wonder where it is hollow?
a hush beneath the hum of the world,
carved by paw or claw or time’s quiet insistence.
A hollow stitched in earth’s dark under breath,
where roots dangle like forgotten chandeliers
and the soil holds its secrets close.
It is a cradle of stillness,
a sanctuary shaped from necessity —
warmth scraped from cold,
shelter borrowed from silence.
Here, light does not trespass,
only the sound of breath and heartbeat,
slow and deliberate
as moss growing in shadow.
A burrow is not escape—
it is a return.
To the below, the before,
to the tender memory
of being hidden and whole.
"Ho is you, okay?"
I ask myself most days.
Where warmth is scraped and silence learned,
Where my hidden heart has grown.
A world beneath the trampling feet,
Where the shadows feel like you.
This place was made from quiet need,
Not weakness, not despair.
But the soft and urgent way we bleed,
When safety lives down there.
This is not retreat from pain,
But a shelter drawn from stone.
A space where sorrow has a name,
And I can sit with it alone.
No, a burrow is not escape—
It’s the memory of being whole.
"Ho is you, ok?"
The dark still wants to know.
To the tender place, to the old terrain,
To the hush that holds my soul.