May 26, 2010

One of those surreal moments when you realize that your own limping through life is nothing compared to an animal's actual injury.

My Doe

She hobbled across 68th Street

A gait as slow as time eternal

I, her only companion, thankfully,

As I braked, waited for her to pass.

A right foreleg maimed

Born without hoof or lower leg,

No consequence of man as I could tell:

No gunshot. No metal hood. No unseen trap.

Blessed it was me that watched her go

So slowly across my path, my doe.