The Opposite of Fear

In fear
we wall up,
shrink,
border,
a tight-packed nut
or a fist.

While in grace
we open, a dancer
spreading her arms,
a bird in flight,

we become the cloud
shading a farmer
from hot sun

we rock a child
as if we were
the wind,
a lullaby

our fingers trace
feathered love
onto another’s
face.

Fear tries
to stop us
from dying

but we can only
live
in the opposite
of fear
-grace.

The White Hare

Landing
a rabbit
lonely in
the snow.

He doesn’t know
I love his
thin-tipped antennae ears
his moon-puff of tail
and the trembling
elegance
of his whiskers.

His hind legs shoot
a powerful leap
-he disappears
white against white

the wind must have
caught my scent

was he glad
to have been noticed
(just a little?)

or was
the color
of love
turned to
black fear
in all his white
solitude?

I wrote this last year, and have recently dusted it off. I unfortunately have never seen an arctic hare, but was glad to meet one in this poem. I imagine they are just like that, moon-tail and all.