The King of the Lawn

He sits in the yard,
Like he owns the place.
The King of the Lawn.
So motionless at first,
I wasn’t even sure,
He was alive.
Just look at him.
A regal hare,
On his throne of grass.
Won’t even deign to nibble,
On our plebeian greenery.
For over an hour he sits there.
Looking down his bunny nose,
With disdain,
At all of us.
Only when I go out,
To fetch the laundry,
Does he finally hop away.

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