If this is supposed a happy constellation, and right-here but an errant star-child corroded by unhappy actors, emotives, entwined with anarchists ( looking for their sole satisfaction); then what is to be said for the now proliferating off-spring in a defrosted garden?

As winter passes the hawk gathers the wind, the serpent – the warm, the cat emerges from domesticity; in pursuit of the bunny rabbit, furry cute protein.

Always this goes on etc.,etc.,etc., ( or as recorded in the old-days … &c, &c, &c … ).

This being violence, it is the way the world is, ask any bunny rabbit.

Invoking a sense of peace is real, here and for the bunny rabbit, but it is the peace amidst the nervous; pricking greyed-brown thickets for green shoots. A search for a treasure popping up from the heaving frost melting into simple wet.

 

 

 

 

Welcoming the sun in near nakedness, He & She will have much to pay for a treasure search in the thickets (fear?); perhaps for knowledge unnecessary to the bunny rabbit.

 

 

 

 

 

Youthful searching gestures,  about, and about, and about,

&c, &c, &c …,

pushing aside the prickles, for a brief metaphorical grass filament, in the clustered thickets.

 

 

 

Perhaps the bunny rabbit construes necessity, and so hops into the sun’s fatal freedom.