Flat Frog Re-Visited

Somewhere in the ancient history of this evolving document an earlier posting was titled "Flat Frog"; depicting several colored versions of the scanned cadaver of a frog flattened by a car and left to mummify itself on the hot surface of a local road in the summer heat. Out in Britanny last Summer, a similar image presented itself on the sandy road going to the beach... a large frog transformed into a two-dimensional rendition of its former self by a passing car which paid no heed to the frog catastrophe occurring under its wheels.

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And as with the earlier posting, the notion of roadkill as an unfortunate phenomenon of our often heartless times came to mind, recalling another poem on the topic written some time ago...

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......Passing
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Today, returning home
In the fog and melting snow
Saw the game warden's jeep
In the neighbor's drive
Walking 'round the house
To the front door
Heard the sharp report
And echo of bullet through bore
A second shot cracked
Quickly muffled by the mist
Like a ghost wandering
From some old and distant war
.
In the back field
Where the wild grasses grow
Midst the tawny winter clumps
Ringed with remnant snow
The game warden stood
Above the crumpled form
Of a sand colored doe
Back legs broken
By a car on the road
She had crawled as best she could
Crippled, toward the wood
An effort far beyond
Her failing strength
.
She lay silent in the wet and wintry grass
When the bullet, like a bolt of blinding light
Smashed through her brain
Yet still it took one more to end her pain
And her heart
On its final frantic fling
Pumped out her fear stained blood
Onto the snowy earth
That waits for Spring
.
The game warden tied
The limp and lifeless form
To the tailgate of his jeep
And let the tender useless nose
Drag along the road
As he drove away
With his stricken, finished load
.
Today, returning home
From the back field
The game warden gone
Nothing left to show
For the passing of a doe
But the harsh and telling tracks
And her red blood on the white snow
A flight of wild geese
Passed directly overhead
Faint forms shadows in the fog
Plaintive calls muted by the mist
As though they came
To claim the soul
Of a kindred spirit friend

Who will be well and truly missed

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