Under the moon, across the snow
the little rabbits come and go.
Out of the forest, deep and white,
Their shadows follow them at night
into the clearing. To and fro
under the moon the rabbits go.
There in the silent silver light
They hold their midnight rabbit rite
as one old rabbit leads the rest
in secret, soundless rabbit fest
and, lifting ears to some high tune,
they raise their tails to greet the moon.
They are not secretive as mice
But dance all night upon the ice
Beneath the moon and leave at dawn.
I find their footprints on the lawn.
Under the moon the rabbits go,
Leaving stories in the snow.
~Margaret Menamin*This hooked rug is part of an exhibit that I enjoyed recently with my pal, Hilda:
Rags to Rugs: Pennsylvania Hooked and Handsewn Rugs
through December 31, 2008