I haven't written poetry in a while. Do I still have it?

Did I ever?

There's a dead squirrel on road where I walk each day
Lying peacefully in the rain channel by the drainage grate
Among the fallen spring buds from the trees
And the wind-blown mulch, and leaves of spring cleaning
It has been lying there for quite some time
Days, at least
Perhaps a week now, undisturbed it lies
I'm not sure when I first saw it
Or first made note of it
The first day I noted
That its eyes were empty
No doubt dehydrated and eaten away
By the tiniest scavengers
The things that eat at us every day
Microbes, and bacteria, and insects
But yet, there it lay

The sun was shining through its lively still
Gray and brown fur
The wind tasseled its tail
Over the smooth, worn pavement
Still plump and round
Splayed upon man's hardened ground
And I thought for a moment,
Perhaps I could bring it back to life
To see it frolic one time
Or perhaps I've seen this squirrel frolic before
But no matter
Its eyes were no more
And the redness around the empty sockets forlorn
It has been dead far too long

Sometimes nature takes its time
But everything has a day to die
Even squirrels

The next day I saw it, it looked the same
More tree pods surrounded it
And the windy day
Tried to cover it with mulch, and leaves
From nature's spring cleaning
Its plumpness is fading
Yet, it has seen no tire to press it
Just a natural decay
In such a public place
Yet, there it lay

I will go for another walk today
And I will greet my silent friend, and observe its condition
As it makes this worldly transition
From life, to new life
From death, to what will come from it
What always comes from it
The flies relentlessly swarming
The wasps poking, and exploring
The stench of rotting flesh permeating the air
Hiding the smells of spring surely there

And today it is darker
More decayed
And yet, there it lay
Silent
Waiting
Every molecule traveling away
Motionless except for the disturbing breeze
Cause by the wings of flies and bees
And the scent of death in the motionless air
The sun warmed pavement
Hastening the processes
Calling more scavengers
To your final despair

Another day, and you are gone
The sun kept your place on the ground
marked by the darkness left behind
Spots of decay, black and brown
Just small pieces of fur still hold tight
To the spot where you ended life
Were you taken by a vulture
Or snatched up by a cat?
Too old and rotted to be a good meal?
Maybe for the crows
To peck at your flesh
And carry you off to their nest

What ever the reason, I'll walk now alone
Taking my time each afternoon
Along these corporate suburban roads
Parking lots devoid of real life
You, my dead squirrel friend
Made everything seem so much more real