The Drabble (Online) October 2016
The crow, apparently ravenous
for the unrecognizable splat of
highway carrion, does not budge
from its feast, despite the near
passage of a barreling fourteen-wheeler
in the adjacent lane. The truck’s
driver barely notices the banquet
as he flashes by, his mind
on his destination, his eyes scanning
for radar cops or construction cones.
The truck itself, intent on only its task of
hauling weight and displacing the air
it moves through, has no sentience;
cares neither for the beast it carries
nor the beasts it passes. It’s the middle
of June, at last, and everything beside
the highway’s grey is green.