Dead Pheasants (a poem about caring)

 
What happened to you?
Why were you in the road?
Why didn’t you fly away?
It’s your own fault
You have wings you know
So you could have flown away
I hate looking at you now
You’re so needy
With your broken wings
And guts all over the road
I might just drive by
And ignore you
I won’t drive over you though
I will see you and feel a sense of horror
But I will keep driving
Keep driving

One day I might reach my destination
But not today
Because I turn back
I park my car
And I carefully peel you off the road
I smoothen your wings out
And after pulling your guts up
I carefully place them back inside
You hop about a bit
I laugh
You do some funny walks
Talk about some feelings
And do a couple of practice flights
I talk to you about the road
About the dangers of cars
And how there are so many better places to stand
Then I get in my car
And as I drive away
I see in my rear view mirror
That you have hopped back
To the middle of the road.