Bunnet (o sea Bunny Sonnet)

A long wooly cloud has come down from the sky

To lie unpreoccupied upon the kitchen floor.

This mute cumulus creature bats nary an eye

Unless a creak issues forth from the door.

Then, taking it upon himself to curl up with the air

Of a crescent moon, his doe eyes look at one askant.

“If you have something nice it’s hardly fair,”

He seems to say, “To be as churlish as a cat.”

Candy or cracker,  salad or sandwich,

With his charm he takes whatever he can glean:

And polishes it off, bit, smidge or pinch

And flops back into the same spot, appeased.

Oh flocculent gourmand! Oh voracious ball of fuzz!

Now ever so much more corpulent than cumulus.