Fast Food
Two vultures sit on a branch up a tree
I've stopped, and armed with my camera, I approach stealthily
I begin to smell a pong
I squinted around and located the source before long
A dead alligator, hit by a car, it had crawled to the side
They're waiting for decomposition to get through the tough hide
They wait it out, They may have young to feed
But others are smarter and also have a brood
So they wing their way to the dump..for some fast food.
poem by Brian Roy Skyers
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.