Little mole, why are you out here on the road?
How did you die?
Why are you not underground in your mole tunnel?
You look as if you are set to walk down the path, but you are here when I walk past both times, frozen in time and space.
Your fingers are spread out. Your nose is pink. You look alive.
I am sorry you had to die out here away from your mole family. Out here in the cold and ice. I send you prayers little mole.