"Turkey Buzzard by the Road"

The she-buzzard
frightened,
even disgusted,
my younger self.

As did her grave
black wings parallel
with the windshield
of my car:

Meant to appropriate
her smooth flight—
to keep up with her speed.
Cruel insufficient mimesis.

But now her great
craned garnet neck
has my respect.
I never look away.

The buzzard is sharp.
She makes real promises,
and her terms are absolute.
She is both eager and cool.

She is full of ambition
I can understand.
She is never ashamed,
as she waits on a carcass.