It’s terrible
How we destroy
Without effort
Or even
Perceiving

These smallest
Creatures among us
Whose existence
Proves
We are wrong

When swerving away
Though they run
Hitting some blind
As they
Scramble

Across roads
Which kill them
Regardless
Of the steps we take
To avoid

What sin
Does inevitably last
By virtue
Of us
Merely knowing

That cars
Are a weapon
Indifferent
To a scenery
Teeming with God

Littered like trash
Or a bag
On trees
Which catch us
Admitting

Such thoughts
Are a selfish
Prediction
Of a fate we’ve sealed
In our rush

Toward progress
Vapid and null
As that empty
Dream
We’re pursuing

Disturbing birds
While they chirrup
From nests
Knocked down
For a house

Displacing lives
Among waste
Where our futures sit
Near this
Footprint

Of tire tracks
Bloodied and careless
On our way
To work
Where we speed.

– J. Pigno