Image result for rabbit in renaissance painting

You have been working hard and making money
And the rabbits are running in your flowers
As dandelions droop here and there and the hours
Fall as they always fall when shadows cover the hill
And the sun bathes the hill, by turns, cloudy and blue,
And night settles down, with dwindling sunlight and moonlight, too.
Always making it, with your thoughts of me,
To where I am, and me kissing you, finally,
And you indifferent, as the women always are,
Unless the big act of the porn star.
Hey it’s about time we agree.
You better give that to me.

You have been aging, and trying hard not to age,
Putting in new plants, the basil and the sage,
The things you are able to do, always ready to do;
Sometimes with tree trunks it’s difficult to tell false from true.
The soil is ready, and you are purposeful, not quite soiled,
Trying to keep your health and another cookie, or two,
Leaving the fermenting alone, so it doesn’t get spoiled.
It’s impossible to know what women really are.
Children are the best. But they only take you so far.
Of course. It was expected. We couldn’t agree.
You better give that to me.

The far-flung hasn’t made it here yet, but it will,
They are working on something new,
Hear the sounds of the workers on the other side of the hill?
The rabbits are coming out more in the evenings.
Look at them sitting there, with those eyes.
It makes you want to renounce the human race, sometimes,
The innocence and plainness of these animals.
And all the poems heaped up and not rhyming.
It’s not my business, really, to ask who you are.
A little can be found out. A telescope. A star.
I’ll be peering into the night. Maybe we’ll agree.
You better give that to me.




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