there might be another meaning
to that old proverb about
“slow and steady wins the race”
that’s it’s not a competition
but an expectation a prediction
the cottontail turns into the tortoise
that in time the ears fold back
merge and harden with
the curve of the spine
and become a shell
that the legs shorten and wrinkle
lose their hair
and the hop and scamper
slows to a lumbering shuffle
and the rest of the rabbit?
in mom’s old eyes
i sometimes see it squeeze
just under the fence
and run like crazy
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