Trace
by Sheryl J. Shapiro
~In this chilly September twilighttufts of cottontail are flattened on the streetthe body drenched, glisteningThe piercing eyes of the crowsdraw the chalk line on the scene
The rabbit belongs to the brambles, the earthThe birds are eager for a winter mealI want to lift this creature away from this runway
A paper bag from my trunk becomes the gurneyto the small tangle of grass by the mailbox
As the evening darkens, I bundle updon a headlamp, shoulder my shovel
Gleaming eyes meet mineGrowls and screechesspiral from the boughs ...
