Crossing Over

By John I. Blair 

 

A soft brown lump
on the gray asphalt
of the street.

What thoughts flickered
through the squirrel’s brain
before the car hit?

Zeal to reach the other curb?
Memories of better trees?
“I’m here; that’s there”?

Not so different
from my own thoughts as I drive,
trusting I’ll arrive alive.

©2019 John I. Blair, 3/12/2019

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