Turkey Vulture

Riding the rising thermals of the plains,
majestic trash can of the skies, all day
I sniff out stiffs. At night I drift away
to dream of all the carrion that stains
the interstate, although I’m quite at pains
to say how fine it reeks. I wake. This May
morning looks great for courting. Longings play
and surge in me like sudden summer rains
and, as I take to flight, elation leaves
me with an urge to pass the furthest suns
and catch my girl. We flirt amid soft sheaves
of cloud. We flap and dive and, in a breath,
we couple. As the season warms and runs
toward fall, we’ll teach our brood to locate death.