It sits in the distance atop a saguaro
Waiting, its beak pointed as an arrow;
Appetite increases while claws dig the tree
To hold it in place, mind’s eye sees
Into the distance—some thing approaches
On winded wings to take over, encroach
Upon territory already taken, spoken for.
Distant winged animal circles high o’er
Head, waiting also with hunger pending
And needing to feed on a never-ending
Supply of desert life far below on canyon floor.
Swooping beast ensnares its meal before
Vulture can move from lofty height
To seek its food during the still of night.
 

© 2006 George E Thompson