Two rabbits rest beneath the tree,
soft ears alert but still,
their noses twitch.
The swing above them
rocks—slow, uneven—
its boards carrying the memory
of someone who forgot a schoolbag there
earlier in the week.

The sky is brushed with cloud
and streaks of rose.
The noonday moon sits
pale and full of thought—
a coin of milk, a petal
not yet dropped,
a hint of the cold
waiting somewhere ahead.
A plane passes far off,
leaving a line that wavers
as if unsure where it meant to go.

They do not move.
They study light and blue,
as though the world
paused to study them back.
The air is soft.
The moment barely breathes.
One rabbit blinks,
the other shifts a paw—
a tiny scrape of dirt—
before they settle again,
leaning into the stillness
as if testing whether it will hold.






.