I never knew how fair a thing
Was freedom, till I saw you swing,
Ragged, exultant, black and high
Against a hollow, windy sky.
You that with such a horrid gait,
Lumbers and flops with red, raw pate.
I never knew how beauty grew
From ugliness until you flew
With soaring, somber, steady beat
Of wings, rough-edged to grip the fleet
Far-coursing horses of the sky,
To ride, to ride them gloriously.
Oh, brother buzzard, you whose sin
On earth is to be shackled in
To horror, teach me how to go
Like you, to beauty, sure and slow;
Like you, to slip such carrion ties
And lift and lift to high clean skies,
Where winds and sun and silence ride,
Like you, oh, buzzard, glorified.
