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I can’t bring death to a world

Where everything dies.

Not even a spider in the front eve,

Its shadow, at night, a good five inches.

It scares the hell out of me,

But how can I fault her,

For dropping down, thread by thread,

And spinning her web.

I can’t add her death

To a world where everything dies.

And yet, I pulled two dead barn swallows

From the galvanized trough by the barn.

I regret, the shallow Victorian bird bath

I wouldn’t purchase, for fear

I’d lure the precious birds to our cat.

Despite trying to avoid bringing death,

It came anyway,

To a world where everything dies.

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