March Hare
March Hare poetry stories
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philipdodd
philipdoddStoryteller and poet.
Autoplay OFF  •  6 months ago
A celebration of spring.

March Hare

by philipdodd

Wish I were a March hare, out there on the moor, sniffing spring in the air, after the winter thaw.

My brain would be alert, my ears would quiver. From danger I would spurt, run down to the river.

I'd listen to the birds, piping in the grass, while white clouds roam in herds, not caring they will pass.

I'd leap through fields of sheep, free of fox and hawk, see old mole wake from sleep, where humans never walk.

My ears and hind legs long, my nose keen to scent, the wild where I belong, there I would make my dent.

Though I'm not a March hare, out there on the moor, I still breathe the spring air, after the winter thaw.

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bryanthomasGifted WriterIn my spare time I juggle fog.
6 months agoReply
@philipdodd You're welcome.

philipdoddBronze CommaStoryteller and poet.
6 months agoReply
@bryanthomas Thank you very much. "Mad as a March hare" is an old English saying. It inspired my poem.

bryanthomasGifted WriterIn my spare time I juggle fog.
6 months agoReply
Enjoyed this, phillip, well done!

philipdoddBronze CommaStoryteller and poet.
6 months agoReply
@arustamyananahi Thank you very much.

6 months agoReply
Great piece of poetry.