The Hare

[LiberAmoris]

In the black furrow of a field

I saw an old witch-hare this night;

And she cocked her lissome ear,

And she eyed the moon so bright,

And she nibbled o’ the green;

And I whispered ‘Whsst! witch-hare,’

Away like a ghostie o’er the field

She fled, and left the moonlight there.

A leaper between worlds, the tiny trickster; she soars through liminal spaces, dancing in the strange shadows of dawn and twilight.

Warm fur and mandrake root, blue sage and tall grasses, honeysuckle-tinged moonlight, carrot seed, comfrey, and dandelion.

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