The end is a begining.  

 

At the Matsubara beach,

a five minute drive from home,

the body of a racoon washed up on shore.

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I observed it.

For half a year I observed it.

It became bones and sea salt cured leather. 

The smell degraded.

One day, the body disappeared. 

Life and death, joy and despair. 

All so close within reach. 

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Though not particularly special,

all are dear to me.