The Plague of Rabbits

Date: 4/27/2026

A little black rabbit Solitary in habit Not a soul for whom she can care She’s nestled inside A grass-covered hide, As the fields are far from bare So I take her in, And then I begin To nurse back to health this hare But the rabbit plague’s quick At making me sick I’d scarcely had known it was there Now the rabbit’s recovered, And happy thereover, To have me, as friends are so rare And I only wish That I, too, could squish This sickness with more than just prayer