Photo by Scott Carroll on Unsplash

Grief

It was spoken
in the angle
of the fawn’s cracked neck
twisting toward flank.

It was whispered
in death’s blinding act
the unseeing eye,
all life’s promise broken
in a flash of steel
headlights and flesh
meeting.

It was echoed
in the brown and white-spotted husk
crumpled on the roadside

while the doe stands
across the divide
still, listening, waiting.

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Lyndon

Under The Same Sky: Writing and photos. Musings on the gritty and the beautiful that gets us through & more. Original content.