“The Hare”, a poem by Dan in dedication to NorrRRRrrrRRrr the hare, of Belgium

The hare sits there, the wolves prowl

The hare is silent; the wolves howl

The foxes run swift, hungry growls the bear—

Warm tasty hare smells good in cold air

The hare has a lair, not here, elsewhere…

If the hare could pray, he would utter a prayer

If the hare could swear, then swear would the hare

But the hare is prey, and prey’s prayer is a dare

The hare’s nostrils flare (which is how hares swear)

Boldly he leaps through the cold autumn air!

Quick is the hare! But will he get there?

A hare’s existence is hope and despair

There rises a wind as pursued runs the hare

There blares a horn, and the wolves cry in ire

They see their prey, and ahead, walls of fire

And the hare’s leaping strides take him there.

the hare, she

runs into the fire,

the fire, 

it takes her, 

she is not burned

the hare

leaps into the fire

the fire,

it loves her, 

she is free

And now it is raining, and no one is there

Except for the hare as careful as ever

The rain is a friend, it drowns the pain

Of smelling delicious in the cold autumn air

The hare is there and so is the rain

But some of the others won't rise again

The howlers, the prowlers had better beware

The courage and daring of a scared white hare…