In the meadow it speaks,

Of fallen dust and broken wings,

Covered by the brightness of light,

And the trees that lie still.


And the Jackrabbit jumps in play.


Scarce heard are the whispers of eyes,

Gleaming black and red,

But the winds still carry the secret,

Of those long gone and dead.


And the Jackrabbit twitches its nose.


Innocence and naivety all alone,

Its borders tinged and tainted,

Forgot to look, forgot how to see

Outside the flowers and trees.


And the Jackrabbit stops to listen.


The brief second

Before the shattering of glass

Lasts the longest;

Everything breaks into pieces.


And the chase begins.