Bunnies?
We were delicate
creatures once:
shy, wide-eyed,
exotic incomers.
Holes had
to be dug for us.
Always toothsome,
we have descended
the scale of what
is desirable,
losing caste,
coarsening,
getting bigger,
faster, fitter,
more inured to
your rough weather;
less
accommodating.
Stoat numbers
are dwindling;
ferrets act
more circumspectly;
dogs hang back now –
have you noticed?
Your roads are strewn
with our martyrdoms,
the relics of our
bold pioneers:
the stepping stones
to a greater freedom.
We have grown unaccustomed
to life underground
and view, with interest,
your larger hutches,
commodious
and inviting.
David Callin has had poems published widely, including Snakeskin, The Journal, Prole, Acumen and Southlight. His first collection of poetry, Always, is published by the excellent Dreich, and is available here – https://hybriddreich.co.uk/product/david-callin-always/