Every day there are twelve if not twice that many
turkey vultures hovering, wheeling, kettling above
that very same spot of creek and bluff
so many of them and all together you’d think
that if they did spot some piece of carrion
the chance of any one having a meal would
be pretty slim. And yet there they are
and have been every day in every season
at that same exact spot, faithful as the sun,
causing me to pause and wonder each day.
So much of the natural world is a mystery
to me, beyond my understanding, beloved,
marvelous, a box of riches available to
little old me at my whim and behest.
