DEAD BIRD BEND
by Scott Johnson
In River Bend the vultures flew, Their numbers strong and proud. And on the water tower in the morning they would crowd. On broad brown wings they spent their days On lazy, soaring rounds, Looking for sad victims Of the cars that speed through town. On Clarks Road one can see a few In morning's grazing light, But scarcely one is seen in town Where once they would alight. I loved the graceful vultures And was proud to call them friend. But Jackson now has banished them From his town, Dead Bird Bend. "BIRD SANCTUARY!" shouts the sign In letters bold and white But just a few yards further on, Hangs a disgusting sight. For on the water tower, stuffed And dangling in the wind There's a vulture hung in effigy Welcome to Dead Bird Bend. "The birds are pooping on my car!" The vulture haters claim. "The vulture poop dissolves our paint," So Jackson did exclaim. And just like that, without a thought Our vultures to defend, He hung that sick'ning effigy And gave us Dead Bird Bend. Each day I wake and mourn the loss Of natures cleanup crew. Reporters help us tell our tale. It's all that we can do. If I could hang an effigy Upon the tall beige tower, It would be one of Jackson, Thus the vultures to empower. I venture out most mornings with My camera at my side, Hoping I will catch a glimpse Of what's been pushed aside. I loved the graceful vultures And was proud to call them friend. But not a one has lately soared The skies of Dead Bird Bend.