Armadillo Poem

This ravaged armadillo sent in from a loyal follower in Tennessee leaves no chance for identification except if ID'd by a forensics team.
Either hit by a big rig or repeatedly by passersby, he is little more than tail, shell and some claws.

We will pay our respects with a poem:

An armadillo crossed the road and made it to the line,
He hoped for grubs in grassy lawns and sandy fields sublime,
But wheels quite large and things quite fast,
they left him as debris.
But we will keep his memory here as long as blogs are free.
RIP


Vulture Vomit Armadillo