Orrin Schwab's poem describes a man through one extended metaphor: he is a rabbit. He's soft, quick and charming, with plenty of friends and a brilliant mind. But he can't turn any of that into the things he wants. His energy scatters across too many interests, and the young women who like him see him as a pet, not a partner.
The tone is gently teasing at first, almost affectionate, then it darkens. The final stanzas point to the danger a rabbit faces in a hard world, where the unprotected get "eaten and skinned." The man can't bring himself to think about that, so he hides. The last line, with its dry "naturally," lands like a shrug, as though avoiding risk were simply what rabbits do. The speaker seems to watch with sympathy and some sadness, noticing how fear quietly costs this man the life his talents could have built. The mood is wry, tender and a little bleak.