the bijou rabbit knew
that if the second hand stopped,
the minutes would follow closely after;
he did not have much time.

bowing low to the ground,
the muscles of his knees compact
and waiting for release,
he did not pause for any consideration
before leaping past the kissing gate.

wildflowers cochineal and wilting
from thick summer exhalations,
blurred into ribbons around him -
his feet made nearly inaudible thuds
across the dry earth,
his ears bent back against
the rushing wind.

he was a colorless thing,
a streak of bleached white and ivory,
evident to any young girl's
wandering eye.

his left ear twitched,
and yes!
there she was, in Prussian blue,
her small heels clicking after him.

"Oh, rabbit! Dear rabbit!"
he heard her call,
but no, he could not stop,
the tawny watch ticked, nervous, in his pocket.

down a hill of thorns and ivy,
dipping under a fallen oak,
he feared for a moment
of being caught in a troublesome rosebush,
but he passed through it,
slightly rumpled,
and none the worse for wear.

her small voice cried after him,
breathless now from the chase -
and he wondered, while moving through
a long tunnel of dirt and roots,
if she had also braved the rosebush,
but no sooner had the thought taken him
did he realize the ground was gone
from beneath his mud-stained feet,
and he was falling,
falling,
falling,
down
the rabbit
hole.