So it was late (or maybe early) and I’d finally gotten abed.
A noise rose outside that I thought might be in my head.
I stood from my bed and looked out below.
The yard once again is covered in snow.
I saw something move on a once-grassy slope.
Wouldn’t you know it? A sleigh drawn by jackalope.
A heard a faint cry and thought, ‘Oh how funny.
If he went down the chimney, we’ll have roast Easter Bunny.’
I guess that he didn’t, ’cause when I went down the stairs.
I found lots of stowed eggs, and candy, and bunny hairs.
I peeked back outside. The jackalopes were gone.
Instead where they were, there were tracks on my lawn.
I wrote this poem in the (very) early hours of Easter, as I waited for the appearance of the aforementioned Bunny. This is what happens when I have coffee too late in the day.