Here's another one - this time without an illustration. It would, I fear, be a bit harrowing!
The urban crow, more used to coping
with other birds, their wings a single
forlorn sail in the road, the occasional
mangled cat or flattened hedgehog,
is strangely moved by the sight of a deer
beside the motorway, none too big,
a baby, hardly begun muses the crow
but thrown clear by some careless boy racer.
The crow knows it is always men
who put their foot down hard
and never the female of the species.
Now the creature sprawls on the verge
elegant, even in death.
which is not to say that
the crow is not tempted by such
unexpected plenty and
vaguely outfaced by it as well.
But it must have made quite a
dent in his paintwork, thinks the crow
with a certain satisfaction.