Last night (as I was recovering from the Rilke poem) I watched several rabbits nibble at the grass. They came out just before twilight and sat statuary except for their twitching mouths and occasional hop-hop.
This morning I shot one, gutted it, skinned it, hung it from the eaves of my cottage and cooked it over an open fire for lunch.
This almost makes one want to be a pantheist.
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