A Kit's Death
It appeared in the yard for the first time yesterday evening just after sunset.
Older cottontails were sprinting around it, apparently excited by its presence.
At midnight I went outside to look at the moon and found the kit dying on the front porch.
I gave it a soft bed and left water nearby, knowing it would die.
In the morning, it had not moved and was dead
So I placed it on green grass surrounded by fragrant apple blossoms.
A silly thing to do, I suppose, yet heart wrenching enough to move this crazy old hermit.
A carrion eater will find and consume it. A coyote or crow or vulture. Maybe even a bear. Recycled as I hope to be out here when I finally keel over. Much more preferable than having my corpse handled and processed by some damned mortician earning a living on the dead.
~ Cottontail kit
~ What force brought your swift end?
~ A pair of rambunctious youngsters?
~ Microbial assault leaving no marks?
~ I appreciated your brief presence
~ For what little that is worth. ~