Why was that raccoon rushing his crossing?
Did he have a reason?
Fear?
Rage?
Or was he merely rambling, ruminating about the
nature of reality or the reality of Nature
and on that spur of a thought, said,
“Say! There’s a river over there. I could
saunter to the water, dig a few mussels, eat a few grubs..”
So he turned right but was so wrong.
Didn’t hear the rumbling engine, the screeching brake.
Didn’t have time to react to that deadly, dull, double
“Da-thump-Da-thump”,
rendering all casuistry irrelevant.
He didn’t need a why to die.
He merely did.