Injured

Like flies to death the birds clouded the lot.
As I approached I saw an injured squirrel.
The birds were eating it alive.

A banshee scream drove back the birds.
They hopped about, waiting to feed,
Only a step away.

The squirrel’s hind quarters
Were a flattened penny
Left on the rails.

My coat, a stretcher
For a careless man’s act.
I tried to be gentle.

The squirrell shredded the coat like leaves
As it struggled
To be free.

I placed him in a bush
Where the fowls could not go.
Safe, but not safe enough.