"Our Place in the Food Chain" - Written 05/02/09

The raven looks down
at the creature's tracks,
and tries to understand.

It starts the same, every day,
in the cold and dark pre-dawn.
The would-be predators gather;
they wait to make their assault.
They move stiffly and stupidly,
listening for the creature's call.

The raven is soon stirred
by the deafening, chilling roar.
Hearing it, the herd swells,
beginning to shuffle and shove
as it stops in its tracks beside them,
and its many maws open out.

The herd just charges right in,
and every one is swallowed whole.
Nothing, then. The charge is done.
The mouths each burp, and close.
Any survivors retreat from the scene,
as the creature cries out, then moves.

The raven shuffles its feathers.
The ritual is done once again.
What ignorant animals they must be,
how utterly lacking in brains,
to, every morning, allow themselves
be swallowed whole by a train.