Boxers in Yellow

Seen – from my window
two hares – boxing
on Easter Day.

Ears – pert as nipples
of an early bather
in the cold, north sea.

Bolt upright, they sit.
Pensive...planning
their next move

amongst the green
of the fields
and of the trees

the blueness of the sky
and the brownness
of their coats

both, drowning, almost,
deep amongst the yellow
of mustard-seed rape.

And then they spar
‘neath a milky-moon
like half a dinner-plate

and when they’re through...
disappears Spring, too
over the hill and far away

as the dish will always
run away
with the spoon.