I found her there in the bottom-land shade

Curled and cowered beside a hophornbeam tree,

Dried, long-dead leaves clinging to its branches

It was startling to walk up to such an animal, so wild

Only to have her lie there, long lashes blinking

dark, glistening eyes and my reflection in them

Too weak and wounded to move,

A poacher’s bullet had found her in the headlights of the night

Instinct would have me reach out and lay my hand upon her tawny coat

But no, that wouldn’t ease her pain

Animals instinctively find water when wounded. And here she lay

Beside the creek flowing by, whispering burbles, babbles, ripples

that I dont understand. Perhaps she did.

I walk back to the truck, through the leaves, head down

To retrieve my rifle, thinking only of

The horrors we endure to end

The suffering of this broken world


One thought on “Wounded

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