In the light of dawn his profile adorns the south route sign waiting for day to reveal the carnage of speed. Then he feasts, crisscrossing the highway sampling the hapless menu. Does he ever rise into the sky to dip in the currents heavens? Or has this young hawk bartered his soul for this putrid feast? Sold his soaring and searching, abandoning lofty rights for the easy dead and the dying? Like those human birds of prey flush with the takings of greed, those shadows that lurk in byways to prey on suffering souls.
Heather’s choice for the Ragtag Daily Prompt today: FLUSH
Fandango’s One-word Challenge: PUTRID
Christine's Collection 
This a beautiful poem about the hawk. I have kestrels, buzzards, sparrow hawks and owls around my village. Each bird of prey would feel honoured by your poem.
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Thank you. The hawk in my poem has become rather lazy, though, with having everything handed to him on an asphalt platter, as it were. 🙂
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The death of many an animal falls to the road either because they rely on it for supplies, or don’t understand the danger there in.
Oddly roads paved the way to the future they will utimately pave the way to the end as well.
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Thankfully people are starting to be more aware or caring about the lives of all this road-kill, making alternate routes and tunnels for the animals. Here on the prairie there are many deer that make a mad dash — and don’t make it.
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We have a new road where many animals are murdered every day. They never understand animals like deer follow the same routes to food and water regardless of human destruction for unnecessary roads and buildings and that’s why they get killed.
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