After the deer was hit by the car, it rolled its head stunned and
bleeding, one antler half off, the other broken, its tongue hanging
limply out of its mouth.
At that moment I wanted the deer to die. At that moment I wanted to be asleep at home in dream without these horrible images burned in my memory.
Instead, from the corner of my eye in the rear view mirror the just hit deer struggles on its feet and careens to the other side of the road to enter the woods, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.
hunter's moon-- the last hold of leaves on the branch