Be careful out there, little sparrow, for there be hawks circling above

and higher still, the wind-blown vulture rising, round and round

for a better view of slaughter.

Waiting his turn to clean-up the remains, after the kestrel dove down, screaming death,

to strike that temporarily preoccupied squirrel

feeding on the seeds I’d tossed around the bushes on the borders of my property.

Then came the vulture, slowly gliding down and down

to devour the bloody, gory evidence of murder.

Mother is efficient.

Each of her children, my self included, has a purpose,

a niche in Natures killing machine.

For only blood can lubricate in Nature’s world,

like top grade oil in my Honda’s engine,

to keep Her systems all moving on and on and on…

‘Till such time as Jesus comes again

to make us all…..vegetarian.