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.