In Spain at Monfrague
Three hundred vultures live on a crag.
I have seen them with my own eyes.
They have seen me and ignored me,
A fat man who gets out of a van and
Gapes up in awe.
Some sit on ledges,
Some perch on edges,
And let go, to fall,
Spreadwings and soar.
They may circle and glide,
Find a thermal to ride’
In spirals and gyres
Higher, higher and higher,
Silently curving, intersecting, interlacing
In a broad feathered dance in the sky
Over the Tagus gorge
Over the valleys and woods,
Up ever into pure azure
High above apes with their words.