four paws padding along the earth,
noise to the ground
snuffling scent.

curving in waves,
tracking a prey,
treasures appear
as we walk this way.

dark green and yellow
box turtle shell,
yellow head and hands
barely peeking out.

leaves quivering
high in the boughs
of the trees.

small little sparrow
grey and still,
lying intact on
the ground,
but for your
little broken neck
ringed in crimson.

pausing to lay
it to rest,
leaf for a blanket,
a prayer for the best.

water bugs
skating along,
pools of calm spots
where flowing creek travels
temporarily stopped.

later inside,
a tiny black dot
hurries by.

index finger poised,
finally lowered,
and so, now you are,
no more.

pausing to ponder,
is this ****** i've done?
is this what consigns one,
to hell,
when one's own time
is done?