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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.

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