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A Kit's Death

It appeared in the yard for the first time yesterday evening just after sunset.

Older cottontails were sprinting around it, apparently excited by its presence.

At midnight I went outside to look at the moon and found the kit dying on the front porch.

I gave it a soft bed and left water nearby, knowing it would die.

In the morning, it had not moved and was dead

So I placed it on green grass surrounded by fragrant apple blossoms.

A silly thing to do, I suppose, yet heart wrenching enough to move this crazy old hermit.

A carrion eater will find and consume it. A coyote or crow or vulture. Maybe even a bear. Recycled as I hope to be out here when I finally keel over. Much more preferable than having my corpse handled and processed by some damned mortician earning a living on the dead.

~ Cottontail kit

~ What force brought your swift end?

~ A pair of rambunctious youngsters?

~ Microbial assault leaving no marks?

~ I appreciated your brief presence

~ For what little that is worth. ~

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