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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Rabbit

He is not afraid of me
I go about my tasks in the garden,
as if he were not there.
I look and we exchange glances,
but only for a moment.
We see each other
and that is enough.
I feel emanations between us,
shared breaths,
as if we were comrades,
friends.
As if the corolla of our spirits
were entwined, touching.

I am a sentimentalist.
The tribe I belong to
includes rabbits, grass, trees.
Jackie already hugs the trees.
It is a privilege to have life,
own life,
share life,
be life.
It is a chorus of singing,
an enveloping of the earth,
the stones,
the water.

Life plunges into everything,
and everything answers,
embraces,
speaks.
So the rabbit has his place,
chewing and listening quietly
to my thoughts.
He hears them,
and feels my care for him.
He is important,
a brother,
a life,
a loved one.

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