CATHARTES AURA

CATHARTES AURA

 

Deprived by gravity,

I watch a trinity

   of turkey vultures

catching thermals

   on a June afternoon.

What are they doing?

Meditating? Playing?

Giving unmitigated thanks?

Altering the outcome

   of the universe?

Where do they abide

   when day is done?

What did they have

   for lunch?

What will they feed

   their young?

(I shudder to think.)

 

Not that I’d want

   to be me

      in a vulture’s body

(granted, it’s the face),

but if I could

borrow their wings

   for a day

and practice

what they preach,

   riding the winds

   of change and time,

I might understand

what it’s like

   to give perfect praise.

I might attain

a separate peace---

or at least an even keel.

 

 

Reviews

[Eric]

Your acuity with words is remarkable. Only three poems and I'm a fan.

Soaked in the sacred, your poetry seems holy in some inexplicable way - a beautiful mystery hiding between the lines.

[Sarah Buchanan]

I like it. It's very well written and nicely formatted. (lots of the new writers on this site tend to just type it without any format so it is rare to see format)