Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Vulture


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.
at

6 comments:

  1. Edit2May 22, 2007 at 8:57 PM

    Touché,BT3. Evocative . . .

    ReplyDelete
  2. possumladyMay 23, 2007 at 9:44 AM

    "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"! ;-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Bill of the BirdsMay 23, 2007 at 12:24 PM

    Dear Possumlady:

    You are correct. "The Vultures Knew!"

    ReplyDelete
  4. Julie ZickefooseMay 23, 2007 at 1:06 PM

    It's good to have a totem bird who will also clean up after you.

    I like this pome, B.

    ReplyDelete
  5. flywithwingsMay 25, 2009 at 6:09 PM

    I love your poem and turkey vulture!

    ReplyDelete
  6. flywithwingsMay 25, 2009 at 6:10 PM

    I very much enjoyed your turkey vulture and poem!

    ReplyDelete