The rabbits eat the bellis while the cat sleeps snug inside,
I patrol by dusk and upturn pots to tasty flowers hide.
Just one night missed will well undo all my careful work,
but then again the worst result is that the rabbits will be stuffed.
It's not hard to walk the garden on sunset primrose guard:
I live in a charmed, geographically armed
place of certain peace;
a world away from The Ukraine and Russia's senseless siege.
I've thought a lot about that box, our message going ahead,
of how we'll say we're happy, and the wild rabbits are well fed.
Of our hopes for all the people on our census, from Ukraine,
and our thoughts for those who they have lost, all the missing names.
