Five hares on a morning field
Five ways to wake early
To glorious sunshine.
Spring’s clocks springing forward
Bringing me stumbling out early across the yard
My myopic squintings
Saluting the sun.
To be
Startled at the springing forward of the hares,
At their desperate hurtling away
And them disappearing into the back bog.
From where I was never to see them again.
Binoculars squinting serving only to point out
‘..the difference between a Hare
And a rock in a field?
If you see it move it’s a rock’.
gingerfightback.wordpress.com 
I guess a rock could move with enough pub fuel
I love this, Paul. I love poetry and that leaves me questioning the lines between realism and fantasy. I’m curious about those moving stones. Great imagery!
I was wondering what he was on about as well Debra!
Feel like the unsung lyrics from Simon and Garfunkel’s “I am a rock”
High Praise Ankur!