Magic Trick

One morning—for a blink—a black rabbit forages in downtown Seattle. I witness, grin—the rabbit knows shortcuts to Wonderland.

Then, poof! The ears, the rabbit, vanish into a regal silhouette distinctly corvine. She—a crow—raises her critical eye, smoothes her plumage. I am not Alice.

For a blink, this crow was my rabbit. As her beak prodded planting strip, her tail swung high and those rounded feathers split to make two ears, soft, dark, lupine. Presto! A black rabbit two blocks from REI.

It could happen. The next night, I did glimpse the bouncy, silent passage of a feral bunny at the Valley Ridge Playfield parking lot

but did not follow. In the darkness I admit it is that crow who called hocus-pocus.