I am the animal who lives in your chestthe thumping back legs of the snowshoe harebounding over snow-flurried fields chasingtailwinds, blustering gusts, uplifting air.Blood pulsing nimble, I navigate trailslooping for bark, shrubs and grasses, ear-tipstufting from point to point seeking safe ground.Be slow, lie low, until fight and flight take chargemy two hind feet kick start and I’m stuffedinside your mouth panting. Calming breath,fluttering back inside your chest, poundingdown to pumping, I’m nestling in rib basket.Beating now at normal resting rate,snowshoe hare huddling in the underbrush.
