The Price

by Alice Woodrome

Every year new babes appear
Upon the forest floor.
Fragile bits of fur and joy,
They fearlessly explore.

Their eyes still wide in wonder
At clover on the hill.
They nibble at the universe
And play, as children will.

They have not learned the dangers
In rabbit revelry.
But life among the leafy green
Is fraught with tragedy.

The lucky ones among them
Will taste the winter wind.
The foolish will be eaten
Before the summer's end.

I watch them from my window,
And wish the joy could stay.
Each day they grow in wisdom,
The fun will slip away.

The sad and certain trade off
Leaves just the will to live.
The shadow of a zest, now gone.
So much required to give.

The price of wisdom is always dear.
Advice, so often spurned.
I, too, have lost -- too much
For the lessons I have learned.



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