Road Kill

Piercing eyes dart out ahead.
A glint of fur, I'm sure its dead.
Now the sound of flesh on chrome,
To tell me that it won't go home.

A squeal of tires after the deed,
Stop in time to see it bleed.
A few last kicks and its all done.
This poor one won't see the sun.

I pause and look and feel remorse.
I see how nature takes its course.
The fit survive, or so they say.
Man's steel wins to end his play.

A buzzard smiles for the gift,
But somehow spirits do not lift.
I think of worms who'll have their fill,
When time demands I pay my bill.