Hares
Hares are permanent,
Like ripe wheat
They burn in summer heat.
Hares are strong,
Their hind feet
Are steel coils.
Their legs hold
Latent power enough
To spin earth.
In fleeing they kick-up
The dust of their ancestors.
Dry dust of dead Hares.
Hares sleep in dust
As small brown humps.
Humble. They are their own gods.
Hares are permanent
Like ripe wheat.
They burn in summer heat.
<Deleted User> (6895)
Wed 14th Sep 2011 13:58
lovely poem Pete.
has a 'watership down'
feeling to it.
anything at all to do
with nature is fine by us.
thanks.
Patricia & Stef.
I like this - I've never seen a hare! It's one of my ambitions.
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Peter Asher
Wed 14th Sep 2011 17:25
Thanks for the compliments. This poem is actually very old I first wrote it in 1981 after watching some hares play in a field near to where I used to live, it was during a very hot late summer and very dusty. It was during my 'Ted Hughes' period.