The Rabbits, a ghazal

their haunches on the purple morning hill;

inaction seizes limb, in deadened still.

 

the fractured, brewing, golden rays of sun

do bristle more than rabbits deadened still.

 

they leap off brambled dens in earth entrenched,

illuminating morning deadened; still

 

the burrowed, tawny heartbeats sound their fear,

entranced and stupefied by deadened still

 

of rifle lowering its metal mouth,

clickened, bullet seated deadened still.

 

its roar; erupting, raps across the land,

and lands upon the rabbits, deadened still.

 

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Edit:sorry for the typo near the end, fixed