Eleventh Hour

A grey little rabbit deep in a hole

Burrowing in the dark

Prepared for hibernation

But Spring has just begun.

He covers his ears but the birds sing

Thumping his foot in frustration

There’s no carrots left

He must search for a mate.

Rumour has it there might be a god

The church doors are locked.

There’s a leaflet that encourages prayer

Wasted on the homeless.

The rabbit scrunches his nose

His fur is dirty and his feet are muddy

He must survive and must reproduce

While hiding from his fate.

There’s a passage somewhere in the bible

That promises good can happen

But only if you’re sorry you were ever born

And you can stand receiving no answer.

On the eleventh hour we can beg

On the eleventh day look for a rabbit’s foot

In the eleventh house on the street

Cheat death eleven times.

There’s a rabbit running in the grass

He fathered eleven children.

He lived through eleven winters

But there were no carrots left.