How many nights now and my desire is a bronze hare — as heavy in me and as light — molten
creature cast on the point of flight, elements holding their form for two thousand years and more — although the patina is changing, reflections change under different lights. Every day this spring,
walking in the fields, I have heard skylarks and seen a hare crouch as still as this bronze hare in the
grass, watching me — our astonished looking a concord between us — and bird song and mammal
stillness seemed strung together on a taut wire — and when the hare sprang at last, how wild alive,
how fast it flew!
