Living Doe, Dead Buck

I saw a deer while on the bus, sitting in a ditch.

It looked towards us while we passed, a spike, a young buck, whatever you want to call him. His antlers had barely a  point. He could have been a good buck, but right now he was barely even a spike.  you could have mistaken him for a doe if you weren't paying attention. He didn't look at us for long, His main focus was the road.

 I should have known I would see him again.

unexpectedly and unwelcomed, I did see him, on the other side.

He had more points this time! It was awesome! He looked great, a bit mangled but great.

The ends of his antlered were sharpened, there was no way you could mistake that roadkill as a doe.

He laid at the side of that road, dead.

His legs bent wrong, his coat stained a muddy brown red mess, and his eyes shiny but unmoving.

He crossed the road, and the people on that road killed him 

I wonder if they meant to?

I wonder if it was an accident?

"Why didn't I warn him?"

I could have yelled out a small warning when I first saw him, to scare him, to get him off and away from that bloody road.

Sure, the others in the bus would have looked at me like I was crazy, but he might have been alive then.

Would he have listened?

Does he blame me?

I wonder about his last thoughts.

I hope he was happy, I hope his last thought was "I made it across."

I don't think he will be alone, but I won't know just yet.

I'm still looking at the road.

                                                                                                      -I think it's about time I try to cross.