cottontail cutlet.

hop. hop. hop.
the rabbit went
hop, hop, hop--
hopped down the stream,
up the hill,
past the windmill,
despite the winter chill.

but as he hopped
down the street,
a truck drove by his feet,
chopped them like minced meat.
and before he knew it,
the rabbit was dead,
a white spot in a pool of red.

a/n: this is just an experiment, so tell me what you think.