Deep in the forest,
most likely an elk, I surmise.
Were you wounded in a mating ritual
clash of titans or by a hunter,
instinct driving your desperate stumble
into secluded woods to die?
Did you merely, with Nature’s grace,
live out your time and lie down?
Your fur destined to line a nest,
flesh and marrow to
nourish new life and the soil.
A tableau deep in the woods centers my thoughts
on life and on death.
Does the why or the how of our own ending
count for so much?
I’d like my carcass to feed this place
that ceaselessly nurtures my soul.