By Maryanna Gabriel
This morning, first thing, I stepped out the kitchen door and an enormous rabbit foot lay at the foot of the deck, a long and bloodied tendon trailing behind it and the area thick with white guano spread like a chalky stain on the stair and my lawn chair. The drama had been recent for the leg felt flexible and warm, when I sought to remove it. An eagle perhaps but more likely and owl. It was a big, big bird with a large pray and clearly he'd torn it asunder there. I heard nothing which isn't surprising. It was probably silent for the most part.
A rabbit's foot. The symbology is very clear. Luck. The owl, magical creature that it is, has delivered luck, and not only that, delivered a reprieve from the lettuce which is undefended.
So luck is with me. With the rabbit, not so much.
