At a Fields Cold Edge
At a fields cold edge beneath the moon
I crept toward the woods, but ‘twas too soon
For one so giddy with childhood fears
To enter so quick what once brought tears.
So I turned and ran back through the field
To howl at the moon that was my shield
Against pitch of black, and woodsy brink,
And this was daring enough I think.
A Big Black Rabbit
A big black rabbit passed right under the moon
On great dark wings to soar and swoon.
I called, “Oh great black rabbit where are you off? ”
An old fool beside me did chuckle and cough
“That’s just a raven, which is only a bird.”
The old man drew out slowly each word.
But it was a rabbit that I saw soaring,
My cause for assurance is birds are boring.