Wild Mystery

Wild Mystery 
1953

Legs frail and askew
she lay by the road
a lone carcass, 
white-spotted hide
her unseeing eyes
skyward     I quavered,  
no bigger than she,
asked, 
Where is her mommy?

My dad shook his head
Nothing to be done
it’s dead 

Later, I pestered my mom,
Why we are here?
Where will she go?
Each time she shrugged
sent me to play—again
Fear clawed
why won’t she say?

Seventy years later, 
I slipped into the mystery
still, wonder lingers