Freedom
A laughing old man drifted past her
his mouth widening in a greedy bite of sky
she watched a moment before her one jade eye
was stolen by a rabbit washing dishes on a hill
High above the old man growled a raucous blend
of spit and noise that blew her back beyond
the safety of a door jamb as the rabbit stopped
and nibbled clover just outside her reach
This I understand, she said and frowned
up at the man who even in his passing
yawned and gave her thorny baskets
woven of some firmly planted reeds to fill
The rabbit nodded knowingly and with that sign
she raised her face up to the wind, laughing
as the old man broke apart, his white hair trailing,
his face rent open by the sky
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology