The Infant Vulture
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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