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
WHCHaibun 2009-11-13