Blooms in springtime
and songs that rhyme,
a dance together,
a dance in time.
The rabbit and the hare,
lost in sunshine,
lose track of their path,
and wander off far too fast.
Away they go,
down into the grove.
Where the croaking frogs drop into the cold,
where did the light and the sky so go?
The trees so thick and dense,
a fog creeping in,
but wait-
a light from a well,
a shimmer within.
And so down they go
into the water
and up they rise back into the flowers.
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