The Committee
Every fall and winter
hundreds of Black Vultures
roost in the woods across the road.
During the day they
go to work, cleaning up road kill
and other carron.
Before sunset, they return, on
high circular flight paths
slowly descending lower and lower
finally, awkwardly landing on
a favored limb,
a dozen or so birds to a tree.
They are quiet,
except for occasional
flapping.
On cold mornings, some spread
their wings, backs to the sun,
showing off impressive wingspans.
They are good neighbors and
every year, I look forward
to their return.
I wonder if sky burials
are legal in Kentucky.
9 thoughts on "The Committee"
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I love them! Great poem!
nice work!
Great to see these beautiful animals in a positive light for once, rather than as symbols of doom.
that last stanza startled me
I love the way you write about them so openly and gently.
great poem
in India
some burials are by vulture
This is great. I wish I’d written it! Great job.
Great poem!!!
Content and structure perfect.
It floats as they and the ending is so good.
Sharp vulture images! Vultures get a bad rap—they are good neighbors! You really captured how they roost!