Winter's Penumbra

From Journal Entry February 9, 2005
Winter’s Penumbra

Almost every winter afternoon when I come home from work, I like to make a cup of tea, sit down, and process the mail.  Out the window I watch the birds and squirrels.  Then I restock the feeders and put carrots in the dish on the terrace for the big brown bunny.  Mr. Bunny is eating about 2 sticks per day now, so he is becoming more confident.  We don’t see him often as yet, one time only at mid-morning, and I’ve seen him at various occasions 3-4 times.  One morning I saw several smaller ones grouped under the mulberry tree.  They stayed for a long time, just to sit and meditate.

   We should be seeing some young bunnies soon - and maybe the babies.  March is birthing time, of so the books on lagomorphs say.  They were a real joy to watch last spring, full of life, and such curiosity and so dainty on their feet, yet fast as lightening with a white of their tail as they fly by .

   I sense evening as it begins to close in around the still village. A gray shade draws over the line of trees and creeps in behind the house across the way.  Their roof melts in the dwindling light.  A lamp flares in the darkness.  A piece of crumpled paper skitters off.

   The clock ticks in the silence.