EPITAPH TO A SKUNK

 
YOUR VERY SHORT LIFE OF THREE YEARS 
WERE MORNED BY NO ONE,
YOU WERE BEAUTIFUL TO LOOK UPON 
BUT SCORNED AND FEARED BY HUMANS. 

IN ABANDONED BURROWS 
YOU MAKE YOUR HOME,
HOPING PASSERBY
WOULD LEAVE YOU ALONE.

ONLY WHEN FRIGHTENED 
YOU MUST DEFEND YOURSELF, 
SPRAYING YOUR SMELLY SUBSTANCE 
IN YOUR ATTACKERS FACE.

THEY ARE REMINDED FOR DAYS 
OF THAT SMELLY ENCOUNTER,
A TINY FORCE TO RECKONED WITH
WHEN THREATENED, OR IN DANGER.

BUT PAVED ROADS ARE MADE
THROUGH YOUR FOREST HOME,
AUTOMOBIL NOW THUNDERS,
WHERE YOU ONCE LIVED, AND ROAMED.

UNABLE TO MOVE 
OUT OF ITS DESTRUCTIVE WAY,
IN AN INSTANT YOU ARE CRUSHED,
AND BESIDE THE ROAD YOU LAY.

WILFORD BARKER.