Bristle

That poor baby rabbit coughed and sweat his way through the week. He didn’t come out of his bed until the weekend, when the pull of his job would coax the infant into his pants. It is a matter of notation that coming out of that sauna into the sun and tall grass blown over, coming out of the concrete as it threatened to weigh him down, disallowing breath, it is a matter of principle to agree that this is a second chance to be alive.