You have become bleached islands,
hidden in a mist of green and brown.
Last spring, I would look away;
you were a stench at road side.
Will your bones still say 'deer'
next summer, amid the high grasses?
Stephen Brooke ©2008
Sort of in a sijo form, though it's not 'really' one. I noticed the bones as I was mowing the field this morning, the bones of a road-kill deer from earlier this year. Some dogs (or maybe coyotes) must have carried them up out of the ditch and left them.