Dusk, a simple cruise back home,
Busy road o’r a Friday night.
Swiftly took a hideous turn.
A raccoon Mother, shockingly so close to Mother’s Day,
Made a most tragic maternal mistake with her so very young offspring-
As all poured forth, just ahead of my four whirling wheels, I nowhere to turn.
A quick stop, but most painfully aware of I and my daughter’s safety,
And of those roaring machines lurking just in back and astride, still oblivious-
My horrendous braking choice made in an instant for all involved.
Those behind halted in time.
Those within came out fine.
But in front–sadness and grief.
The vibration and sound,
Told it all.
A little raccoon kit was no more.
Much sadness and grief
I have had in making this rough decision.
Who can be saved, but who may then be lost.
A taste of what,
Doctors and soldiers must go through,
Terrible decisions often daily,
Life or death in their hands.
Ambling along a quiet lane,
Unveils a somber scene-
Sax ending at closing.
The club empty,
Clientele all departed,
Tunes drift quietly to silence.
Instrument drops, amp still glowing-
Another gig, consummated,
silence now reigns supreme.
I can imagine,
Him gently packing
away his trademark tool.
And shimmering out the back,
to melt into the late night