I lost an old friend this spring.
Not a flesh and blood friend,
but the grayed remains of a solitary oak,
that was unfortunately split asunder
by the booming flash of a lightning bolt
accompanied by rolling thunder.
My friend the rabbit tree,
has ceased to be.
I first met my friend,
about an hour after dawn,
when the morning sun creates shadows,
that magically allows a grayed hulking trunk,
to become a giant, wooden rabbit,
perched upon its haunches.
For one thousand, five hundred and thirty days,
I have looked forward to emerging
from a certain roadway curve,
to be greeted by the silvery-eared head
peering at me for a long second,
as I pass down the highway,
and the enormous wooden rabbit,
resumes its camouflaged habit,
until the following morning.
Goodbye my old friend.
I'll miss the sight of you,
standing on your haunches,
along the morning fence row,
greeting me for that fleeting second,
when a nexus of light, sight, and magic,
causes me to see you within,
the decades old trunk.
April 26, 2016