It was ancient, their home, tall and stately. There they stood still staring through the veil of night. Waiting, wondering and watching each taking their turn while others rested.
It was said by many, “In their dreams they sleep with the moon.” But it was of no concern for soon break of day would come. Their silhouettes would stretch wide against cloudless sky.
Silently, with massive wings they would dive to feed. Raw carrion (caribou, cougar, coyote); it made no difference to the vultures. They had waited under a pale moon dreaming of this moment.
One may wonder of their care-free lifestyle. Perhaps if a day, week or year without the work of the messy vulture we would realize their need in our communities. There are stains upon the earth and it’s a vulture’s dirty job to do a janitor’s difficult work.
“In their dreams they sleep with the moon.”Mary Oliver’s, Death at Wind River