watching and listening

above the body vultures slowly turn
their wings flap once and then they gently glide
i watch them from above on mountain's side
while not too distant cooking fires still burn
carrion birds will eat those things we'd spurn
and yet they're still too ugly for our pride
these graceful creatures that the thermals ride
our deaths the only things for which they yearn
some on the banjo and the guitar strum
while they sing of the times that are to be
but they are silenced by the wailing horn
each heartbeat is repeated by the drum
in the far distance we have sight of sea
and cleaner beings waiting to be born