by Neal Wilgus

Weep no more
came the cry of the vulture
which followed overhead
in perfect circles with square corners
while those below sang sad songs
of ancient days when up was down
and around about
and even the faraway hills
saw armies march
and on came the followers
to gobble up items
left behind
in piles of rubble and smoking ash
knowing as they marched
that this would not be the last time
the vulture flew overhead.