Rabbits here have chosen their holes
different ways—the more neurotic
the rabbit the deeper the hole; all
happily squat at their various right levels
playing nibble-nose and wondering why
everyone doesn’t adjust by footwork,
or just flatten its versatile ears.
Birds here do not care to contest our
way of owning an island. Their
way adjusts up or down so easily
turn here, there, perch or glide,
and song through any thicket
that our irrelevant contracts never
even trill their high ownership.
But could we turn by any tide
always back to here, even then
the slant of the cove would steepen,
darken, refuse the light like a fir:–
we are oriented for other use.
We wave gamely along the rail to a friend
as wild as ourselves-a man or a woman:
“See you (or someone) here (or somewhere)
like this (waving goodby) next year.”
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