Traveling Through The Dark

Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.

By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.

My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.

The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.

I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.

by William Stafford

Comments (4)

Herbert i thought i was back at the OK CORAL buddy it roped me in your creative juice do flow, your not related to a 'TURNIP SWAN 'she has a similar style to yours, she has a leaning toward testicles god forbid Are you well herbert Warm regard allan
You are indead a poet. I am so impressed, very well done, and fast. I am humbled.
Powerful stuff H: -)
A story. Philosopy. Moral. Well done, my friend.