Definitely not a haiku
Man, I hate haikus.
Trapped in five, seven, and five.
I'm better than that.
A story without conflict
Down in the valley, where moss grows thick and piles of stone capture pools of light, there lives a brown rabbit. His fur is softer and cleaner than the finest silk or gentlest lullaby. His days he spends in the freedom of quiet and solitude. The rabbit needs no name, only the sweetness of clover and dandelion, which too live there in plenty.
The fairies, like so many dainty wildflowers, giggle and touch his nose as he hops on by. From the spring in his bounds and the glitter in his eyes, he doesn't seem to mind.
And in the darkness of the night, even the stars seem to gleam kindly down on him. As he slumbers, they loose a touch of starlight to play upon his whiskers.
He lived carefree while celtic bands roamed the fields, while roman centurions stomped along and built their sprawling roads, while horses were exchanged for motorcars and bombs fell from the sky like rain. None touched the valley where he lived.
And he still lives there, even now. Hopping amongst pools of light, with not a worry in the world.
#wholesome #bunny #soft #ireland #sweet
"AAAAAAAAAH!!!" An angry alpaca attacks. And an advertiser acts astonished as an aghast applicant almost absconds.