A MEAL AT LAST A vulture screams. Black wings beat the air Furiously. Beady eyes, sunken in, Bleak and dull Sparkle at the Sight of a miracle.
A MEAL AT LAST

A vulture screams.
Black wings beat the air
Furiously.
Beady eyes, sunken in,
Bleak and dull
Sparkle at the
Sight of a miracle.
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akanechou
akanechou mostly thoughts, ramblings and poetry
Autoplay OFF   •   16 days ago
A meal at last. A short poetry about a vulture’s meal.

A MEAL AT LAST A vulture screams. Black wings beat the air Furiously. Beady eyes, sunken in, Bleak and dull Sparkle at the Sight of a miracle.

A scrawny corpse With flesh. barely intact Alone. Diving down, It claws through What is left. Slim pickings. But pickings still.

The scavenger Slakes its hunger Ravenous in its appetite, Scraping the brittle Bones dry. Appeased, for now, it scans the surrounding dunes Like waves on land Ever flowing.

It takes flight Under the Scorching sun. An endless ocean of Shimmering gold Foretells that the next coming of A meal may not be so easy an Encounter.

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