Vulture

Float along on lazy sky
In between your feasting led
Barely moving on you fly
Scenting forth to eat the dead

Fingers handed winged glory
Float above the fauna forgives
Bounding on to mealtime gory
You never bother that which lives

Cleansing landscapes scarred by passing
Flying windward nasal compass massing
You didn't give a damn for diction
Your time is yours on blank page fiction