Kajenx

Rabbits dancing on a hilltop. Light steps fill the breeze With that sweet smell Hidden beneath the clover Or residing under the rotting logs Of an aging forest. I envy the worm Who bathes in the dark scent Of clean soil and polished sand, Making meals of mossy salad And cool black earth That is always hidden In the most obvious of places; Deep beneath the grass Or the roots of wizened trees Who know nothing of spice.