The Vulture

November 27, 2007
By Stephen Monti, Congers, NY

He flies through the sky with his bent clutches
He soars towards the hot noon sun

He scavenges through the sky for food
He feeds on decomposing corpses

It’s seldom that he kills the healthy
He has no problem killing the weak

He gorges himself when prey is abundant
Until his crop allows him to digest his food.

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