Black outline joining blue to white
like stitches tossed skyward
by persnickety thermals.
Teeters, then rocks, rising
the only sound a whisper
of air across sable primaries
carving poetic invisible paths
all the while seeking out
the reek of death
in valley, meadow,
roadside ditch.
like stitches tossed skyward
by persnickety thermals.
Teeters, then rocks, rising
the only sound a whisper
of air across sable primaries
carving poetic invisible paths
all the while seeking out
the reek of death
in valley, meadow,
roadside ditch.
6 comments:
Touché,BT3. Evocative . . .
"seeking out
the reek of death
in valley, meadow,
roadside ditch."
According to Julie's account of groceries left in the car, you forgot to mention "garage"! ;-)
Dear Possumlady:
You are correct. "The Vultures Knew!"
It's good to have a totem bird who will also clean up after you.
I like this pome, B.
I love your poem and turkey vulture!
I very much enjoyed your turkey vulture and poem!
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