Rabbit in the Moonlight

Moonlight is sharp until I see

A rabbit sitting quietly.

Then wall and fence and tree and burr

Grow soft and touch the night with fur.

Shadows are dead until I see

The rabbit turn and creep from me.

Then every bar thrown on the ground

Creeps off without making a sound.

SLEEP

The thing that I would keep and keep,

The dearest thing to me, is sleep.

Sleep that comes like waving wheat,

And bounds away on rabbit-feet.