took out the trash this morning
sandals on the red, dusty driveway
the scent of wildfire smoke somewhere in the air
as summer sets a shattering scene

a small raccoon dead at the bottom of the can
as i drop the bag aside and gently tilt the can to let it slide
onto the driveway

what did it know in its life?
what did it think as the cover closed?
what did its mother think when it set off for the last time

later on in my own home
roof over my head and curtains drawn
i think of it again and i wonder
does it all end just like that?