Saturday, June 6, 2009
Five baby bunnies have taken haven beneath our bed of thyme. The mother stands across the yard, cleaning her face in the haunch-high grass, as if to say, "Bunnies? What bunnies? I don't see any bunnies." I went to the closet in search of the Red Ryder BB Gun, knowing the neighbor's cat might be on the prowl. No bunnies will go the way of the cat under my watch. But I can't but think the thyme is subtly flavoring their gentle flesh, pink-white as a tonsil, fresh and new as spring rain.