Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road!.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead!.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold!.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly!.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason—
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born!.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated!.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine!.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen!.
I thought hard for us all—my only swerving—,
then pushed her over the edge into the river!.
—William Stafford
Do you!? What are your thoughts on it!?
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