In their burrows deep underground, rabbits stir, huddled – but on warmer days
they poke out their heads, sniffing the air until the hawk fills their nostrils.
And the earth is moving too, releasing her warmth, opening
her pores drinking in the melted snow, as the seeds
begin to burst, just waiting – to break
through the ground.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2017, ancient skies