Ex Libris

i open a book in the woods
and two ravens take flight

wind shuffles the sunset leaves
the ravens gurgle in the distance

another day breaks down
into its elements

i am trying not to rejoice
at the deaths of my enemies

the spongy moth caterpillars
decorating oaks with their corpses

they too are strangers
and sojourners in the earth

unable to limit their appetites
and stay where they land

the way an old mountain laurel
sheds its spent blossoms

and stands in a patch of what looks
from a distance like snow

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