‘Twas the hot weather
Likes of this they had never
Seen. Such a stew
That mother nature seemed ‘t brew.
The possum, a marsupial
With scally tail with no hair a'tal
Two buzzard friends with shinny heads
Worn bald by picking at innards.
Met this sunny breezy day
Alongst the roadside right-of-way.
Drawn by the sight and smell
Of a carcass smashed to hell.
First buzzard said to ‘t other, 'it's the taste,
Can't afford to waste a bit, in our haste.'
But the second said, 'let it stand and the flavor
Can get only better for us t' savor.'
The possum said, 'it's taste not smell
Upon which I dwell,
I'll eat the carrion
While you carry on.
This is my daily meat
Provided by the roadside, neat.
On this I do delight,
Preferring low carbs, calories, lite.
It's the entrails
That enthrals
You prefer muscle. I guts
You can have the bones and such.'
Like Jack Spat and wife, not lean.
The three picked the carcass clean.
Providing a service to us all
Scavengers rewarded by nature's call.
sjm/08/16/04
Sidi J. Mahtrow
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/buzzard-banquet/
