By Donna L. Ferguson Dudley, copyright 2018 5/09/18
Art, by Maggie Vanderwalle
Moon madness has o'er-come the hares.
And they dance all alone or in pairs,
to the spry cricket's croon,
caught, in thrall to the moon.
And the ghostly mist rides on the air.
And their toe-pads tamp dewed grasses, sweet.
But the madness has made them replete.
And the scent of the grass as they, over it pass
still does not call to hares, "Come and eat!"
Now, they jump at the moon, riding high,
in attempt to join it in the sky.
And the Moon, as it glows, alone, only knows
the answer to strange mystery, "Why?"
And the velvet sky, studded with stars
twinkles laughter at hares from afar.
But the hares, unaware, mesmerized,
do not care that they are amusing the stars!
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