Challenge
Feed.
Write whatever comes to mind from the word feed. Poetry or just a story.
Seventeen Vultures
Seventeen vultures, perching on a dead branch, sunning on a live oak tree.
All of them appearing, to face the same direction, looking east, comfortably.
I think I should be moving, waving like a mad man, knowing that I shouldn’t be still.
I am in their sight line, feed on me oh don't dine, thinking that I am a road kill!
#feed#vultures
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