Spain Into France Poem by Brian Dodds

It was astounding talk about
the forty shades of green
multiply that a few times
the rain the spuds in fields
throw in thirty-five vultures

drifting semi-purposefully in
the leaden sky a jogger said
in rapid french he'd seen them ripping
a dead sheep a few kilometres below
the awful rawness of that casual comment

all over france the vultures
that's what he claimed and I thought
yes I know the feeling there's
a lot of them about sometimes
I feel the coolness of their shadows