a haunting (poem)

a haunting

a bright morning
in early fall,
i turned off news
of portland and gaza,
gathered gloves and shears
and stepped outside.
on the lawn
a rabbit lay,
hurt or sick.
it didn’t run
from me, barely
raised its head
to look.
i wasn’t sure
how to certainly
and swiftly
release it,
and i didn’t.

thru the day
its position shifted
across the yard
following shade,
moving only
when i wasn’t looking.
i didn’t see
when it left.

it never left.

but it disappeared.

— sylvester hobson
2025 october 2

halloween day 2