Smudge Poem by Bill Grace

The skunk that could have sprayed me - did not - I am grateful!

A not to be forgotten fence marks the spot
of what could have been a close catastrophe,
a friend who knows more about skunks
than I ever will has counseled me;
the skunk dead in the road
is almost certainly not my skunk.

Still, I grieve a little
and watched his death spot become a smudge
from the indifferent traffic.

I am glad that sometimes
From clear walks that are frequent
No smudge has ever been produced.

Bill Grace