Cool damp morning air on sleep-warmed skin. Breeze-blown sprinkler water freckling my cheek. Fiery red orange sun popping loose from the horizon. I use just two speeds on my bike on these early morning prairie rides: "Wind at my back," and "Going the other way."
It's a good day for rabbits; I've seen two already. They are always there, I'm sure, seeing me, but today I have a good eye for them. They start to hop, then freeze when they see me, one eye cautiously looking my way. "I see you, little rabbits" I say softly, and wait for them to move on.
Mary Austin, when writing about the desert in A Land of Little Rain, said this: "Rabbits are a foolish people. They do not fight except with their own kind, nor use their paws except for feet, and appear to have no reason for existence but to furnish meals for meateaters." I think that rabbits dancing in the moonlight might disagree.
Reason for existence? I am glad that I am not judged so harshly. Or am I?