a day of recogning

A Day of Reckoning Forenoon, it had been raining during the night the wizened winter landscape was now green and amongst olive trees long-legged sheep grazed; their pastor and, on occasions, executioner, sat on a boulder casting dreams into the future; man and beast, rustic peace, pity I hadn’t a camera. On my way to the village to buy the papers, a sheep had been run over by a truck, with its stomach burst open and its content glinting in the sun, it was still alive. Ah, you dumb animal abandoned by everyone   it looked at me without any hope of deliverance, so I reversed my car and ran over its head. As the skull was crushed its eyes popped out, landed at the middle of the road that now had eyes to see with, the shock of this made it shudder a long rent in the asphalt wench black tears trickled. Quickly  I threw the eyes into the thicket which was instantly transformed into a field of tinkling bluebells. From nowhere a road gang of small, denim-clad men   with big hats appeared, they were badly paid and lived on road kills. Expertly strewing soft sand on blood, filled cracks with healing asphalt, and off they drove with their dinner. Empty road it had no knowledge of what had just occurred, it was up to me to remember.