By Julie

Bounding back and forth in the grass,
Stopping, listening quietly to make sure that nobody quite close to him,
Ducking down low,
Teeth chattering, nibbling on something nervously,
There is a loud stomping sound,
Shaking the earth as someone runs toward him,
He bolts off, dashing
Into his tiny burrow, where only the human’s hand can fit.
A rabbit in a field.