Poem — Natural

Where you find bits of things growing and thriving -

strange — sometimes it’s in the light, and

sometimes it’s in the low and wide dark circles that fill up so many woods

Where a kind of alternate life dwells, a kind of what-might-have-been

Fairy rings

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Things that eat death

Alternates

Natural as we are, but we do not say so,

Because we must make categories and we must say what is good and ungood

We were commanded to, after all

And goodness knows, we only want to obey