Two rabbits appeared in my yard
on Easter morning a rare
occurrence here and apropos
enough to be startling on this
particular day though they
carried no basket of eggs,
wore no bonnets, remained
on all four legs, wore no
pocketwatch across a portly front.
Just two plain brown rabbits.
Last year on Easter Sunday
I ate rabbit, a thing I had
vowed never to do, at the home
of my son’s friend Matthew.
I imagine I will burn in hell
for it, but not, I would think,
as ferociously as the cook
for I was just being polite.