We who play under the pines,
We who dance in the snow
That shines blue in the light of the moon
Sometimes we halt as we go,
Stand with our ears erect,
Our noses testing the air,
To gaze at the golden world
Behind the window there.
Suns they have in a cave
And stars each on a tall white stem,
And the thought of a fox or night owl
Seems never to trouble them.
They laugh and eat and are warm,
Their food seems ready at hand,
While hungry out in the cold
We little rabbits stand.
But they never dance as we dance,
They have not the speed or the grace.
We scorn both the cat and the dog
Who lie by the fireplace.
We scorn them licking their paws,
Their eyes on an upraised spoon,
We who dance hungry and wild
Under the winter's moon.
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Thursday Poem - The Moment
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