A Poem from Janet Cannon's  Poetry Room at IsleWrite.com


the annoyed vulture
flies from his dead skunk
evening meal in the middle
of a remote rural road

as we drive past fast
to get beyond the stench
watching with our noses
closed tightly we see he

sits anxiously on the dirt
shoulder waiting patiently
for us to leave his moonlit
kitchen table ready for the
tasty feast we interrupted

Poem by  Janet Cannon