Bully Bunnies In the fallow plane Burrowing deeper And braver than they knew They could ever go The conflagration of opinion was a Stark beginning to Upend and win the crux of the spin As they take busy steps on Feet that are never Cleaner or meaner Pitchforking the bundles As hurdles in burrows Itch The Hawk And The Coney The Coney Trilogy (Choerogyllius) by Zac Dunn Robust Darker Taller Hip hopping across the flat fields Furrowed and turned but rallied by The barking that calls and crawls up the walls As the wee ones dream of carrots And sunshine, so sublime The hive mind connects to predators And foes that the fear only knows And grows slow like the GARLIC and sweet ONION bulbs Gently lulling them all back to rest as the mites try To snack upon their brisk pumping chests … (5:11 a.m. | 2.18.24) No. 125 The firm earth walls of the tiny hole Had grown much too cold and droll To hold back the peeping mouths Waking from Winter’s slumber Down under the mighty Hemlock’s Bows proudly they had avowed To hold the watch over the cold winter Lock that would put them in With kind and kin Only to nibble and dream of the Sun and seeds that would Litter the surface so moist and full of life But as the sun began to wiggle the roots Awake around the holler The delicate scrapes would be made at midday when the SUN was too high to hide what bounty lay Await as the day would only be swallowed By the moon whole At first, the field appeared quite desolate The CONEY pulled itself up and snapped its eyes So as to survey and plot the most vital and precarious First foray back into the frey But not for the first of last they bounded forward to Thump off the rot of sleep and old nuts that tasted of Earth and wood Today the tufts brought back would be the breakfast The champions they had sired ART BY ANASTASIA FIRSOVA
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