I don’t register why I slow down,
When from the corner of my eye
A shape leaps toward the road.
A large roo hops out in front
From nowhere into the traffic.
Brakes screech, but it’s too late
As it meets the bullbar,
And disappears beneath the four wheel drive.
Then as if in slow motion
It struggles up with a feeble hop
To land for its last time in front of me.
Eyes signal its distress and
We shudder together before it slumps.
Traffic stops and people swarm
Someone has a bag, another has a sack,
Two men drag the carcass to the roadside,
Check for a Joey and tag for unknown disposal.
I sit not knowing what to do,
Then there is nothing else left
But to go on our way as before.