A hunter tries to catch a rabbit, but the heavy iron trap
springs prematurely and clamps down on his hand.
Deep within the bushes, a wary hare looks on.

In Lisbon, on All Saints’ Day, the faithful gathered
in the city cathedral, ringing bells and lighting candles
when the earthquake and tsunami struck, then a firestorm.

Decades before the lovers finally met, she saw him
in a supermarket checkout line, but he was gazing
at a magazine, and never turned to look back.

The stealthy bombers flew in low and fast, dropped
their deadly cargo and then turned to flee, unaware
they’d bombed their own troops, and not the enemy.

Some will say that fate is fickle, that things are often
not exactly what they seem, while the wise may claim
that whatever appears is no different than a dream.

In this luminous world of make believe, both faith and logic
are futile, and it’s useless to speculate. We tend to hear
what we want to hear, till we pass through heaven’s gate.