Scavenging For Bones

A buzzard dancing in a field, bone in claw clicking, picking further cannot be real, in foaming masks of blood he basks A death of beauty as ether flies, the buzzards watch as spirit denies, a lasting breath right to last, and his appetite grows vast All to survive watching the weak, awaiting their date, death is fleeting but supper is made, magnolia leaves are floating to bay, this conundrum of dreams but who’s to say A Native with the lancing spear wreathed in snakes, bead to eye now buzzards in some dinner make, reflex-ed out in bone to ground, oozing to not breathe a sound, as death did greet old friends eyes, they smiled and said ‘You took awhile’