We know you too

Vera
A yearning from before?
Is it sweet pace with large trips?
The littlest yet silliest laughter in the room.
A spider mother who forgets her web—
curbing threads that leave a house roof-less.
A hard ground with soft earth
a soft cloud that bears no rain.
I still read memoirs of the after-lives of red caps with red cups.
Songs of nightingale and old words
I’m only saying what today won’t say
I am in the little of yesterday
used to be drunk with wooden cups.
Wood man in haiku
9 letters in 7 days.
I didn’t say it from before
Did it say it now?
I do not know, but I know you’re bunny.

Ruddapoet