The Falling Ears

There was a rabbit
whose ears would not stand.

They tried.

At times, they almost did.

But sooner or later,
they fell.

Other rabbits
did not have this problem.

Their ears stood tall.
Alert.
Certain.

Even at rest,
they held their shape.

She noticed this early.

Before she understood why,
she knew it mattered.

She began to watch them.

How they moved.
How their ears turned
before anything happened.

How they always seemed
ready.

She tried to do the same.

She lifted her ears
as high as she could.

Held them there.
Waited.

They stayed.
For a moment.

Then slowly,
without asking her,
they fell again.

She tried again the next day.

And the next.

After a while,
she stopped waiting.

She found ways to help them.

She pressed them together
with strips of grass.
That held for a time.

Until the grass dried
and loosened.

She used thin twigs.
Balanced carefully.
They stayed longer.

But when she moved too quickly,
they slipped.

Once,
she found a band of vine.

She wrapped it tight
around her head.
That worked best.

When she joined the others,
her ears stood.

Not perfectly.
But enough.

No one said anything.

A few rabbits glanced at her.
Then looked away.

She stayed with them.

For a while,
nothing felt wrong.

Then something shifted.

A rustle in the grass.
Sharp. Quick.

The rabbits lifted their heads.
Ears high.
Still.

Then—
they ran.

Fast. Sudden. Certain.

She ran with them.

The ground blurred under her feet.
The air rushed past.

Ahead, something moved—
small, quick, alive.
The others were already closing in.

She pushed harder.
Kept pace.

For a moment,
she was with them.

The vine tightened.
Just a little.
Then more.

She ignored it.

They leapt.
She leapt too.

The vine slipped.

One ear tilted.
Then the other.

She tried to fix it mid-run.
Her steps broke.

Just enough.
The vine snapped.
Her ears fell.

The others didn’t stop.
They closed in ahead.

Gone.

She slowed.
Then stopped.

The field grew quiet again.

She stood there,
her ears resting
where they always did.

In the distance,
the others gathered.

Moving together.
Certain again.

She watched them.

After a while,
she lifted her ears once more.
Out of habit.
Out of hope.

They held.
Briefly.

Then fell.

This time,
she didn’t reach for the vine.

She stood there a little longer.

Then turned,
and walked
in a different direction.