The Vulture Poem by Mike King
The Vulture
A vulture
Was eating
Breakfast when
I came by.
He focused
Intently
As if he
Were praying
Over this
Dead squirrel.
Ten feet lay
Between us.
He paid no
Attention
To me but
Kept on eating.
Then this
Amazing
Bird flew off
Into his
Wild, ungovernable
Blue sky.
Wednesday, May 13, 2026
Topic(s) of this poem: bird
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Trimester rhythm
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5/13/2026 8:32:38 PM # 1.0.0
