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Wild Must Be Wild

By Jeanne Blum Lesinski

—after Depression in Winter
by Jane Kenyon

There comes a little space
     between the south side of the boulder
          and the perennial garden
just right for the rabbit burrow
I found that spring: kittens
the size of Easter eggs almost
ready to wean and run—
or freeze, in hope the hawk is blind.

My daughter scooped one up,
     carried it around in her hoodie,
          like her own Velveteen Rabbit,
until I told her: wild must be wild.
I prayed there be no traffic
as the kittens scattered ahead of us
across the road to the woods.

I opened my eyes to waving grasses
     and sighed.