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Poem

Perched in unfamiliar terrain
Drenched in an unforgiving milieu 
An infant vulture, lingered in pain
On the edge of a hill resisting the wind`s allure 

With no prior instinct, it treads 
Flapping its sporadic feathers
The strides it takes eradicate presumed threats
Its minute wings accelerate, while panic withers

Moving ever so further from the edge
A sense of pride provided a much needed surge 
With eyes firmly fixed on the safe pasture ahead
Victory! Was meet, imparting its winning urge

The jubilation bred self-reliance and stupendous thrill
The former weary eyes prowled 
Saw prey and killed
The innovative, un-vulture like infant was proud.

The effort…..the triumph…..the kill
The essence……the lesson…..instilled.

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