The cross peck of a woodland creature
It scurries about on thy front step
I watch it carry itself in a timid stature, to the place where it may rest.

It crosses a road less traveled by
Except on that day
No, instead it was traveled by more.

Vroom, squish!
There on the road less traveled by
An innocent soul lies there, dead on the floor.

The loud motor of a pick-up truck
It rides towards thy front step
I watch the driver carry herself tirelessly, to her home where she may rest.

Driven on a road less traveled by
Except on that day
No, instead it was traveled by more.

Vroom, squish!
There on the road less traveled by
A woman wonders what she’ll have for dinner.