Driving through that canopy covered roads of, Tallahassee
a cool evening breeze,
accompanies the fading glow of the days sun.
Amongst the wild flowers and tall green grass
vultures on the side of the road, hoping;
plotting and squabbling.
Poor raccoon,
smashed on the warm, smooth asphalt.
Cars zoom by, fast.
It is a sad funeral.
Was it intentional?
Did the raccoon, understand hope?
Had he none left?
I often find myself
pondering
a dead possums brief mortality.
Did they
choose to meet eternity
with an unremorseful motorist?
Were there no more berries?
Was there no more water?
Was there no more grass?
If there is no more prey or sustenance?
where there is no more land for a nest…
when there are no more mates for a family…
when there is no more room for animal life
do animals commit suicide?