Why, dear rabbit, why do you pause,
to stop and sniff the air?
to scour the downs for hints
of shadows,
that are not even there?
The wind brings me news of dangers that
are lying far
or near,
many wait to taste my blood,
and this is my greatest fear.
How, dear rabbit, how
do you know,
when danger comes along,
escaping by burrow or tuff of grass,
and never being wrong?
Every sound, every smell I know,
and know each one I must,
someplace to bolt to when I sense,
for my senses I have to trust.
Why, dear rabbit, why do you hide,
your burrow by that tree?
why not dig it wherever you want,
and simply let it be?
Does dig the burrows where they think,
will best protect everyone,
stoats and weasels will try to climb down,
then all we can do is run.
Live, dear rabbit, live as you must,
but grab some rest while you can.
He gave a sly wink,
and as he dashed off,
yelled, "This indeed, I plan."
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