
Three little bunnies hop through the dew,
One wears a coat of silver-blue.
The second is brown, with eyes so bright,
The third is white as morning light.
They chase the wind across the glade,
Hide in the grass where shadows fade.
Nibble on clover, soft and sweet,
Tiny thumps of their dancing feet.
The sun leans low, the sky turns gold,
Stories of spring in silence told.
Three little bunnies curl in a heap,
Dreaming together, they drift to sleep.
Published April 30, 2026
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