This poem is taken from Stand 219, 16(3) August - September 2018.

Peter Rawlings Three Poems
By the Hare and Hounds

She said she lived by the Hare and Hounds,
my chance visitor, a phrase I have stored.
She has spoken it,
it lies inside her,
darting floater for her eye
and earworm for me
to replay and weigh for meaning.
It inhabits both of us
where we are united as if by reason.

In the chase the hare doubles
back, jinking on its run
to outwit the pack.
Instinct thrills beyond any act of the brain
for the throb of living fills its limbs.
And it is this which will draw her back
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