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.