When you find yourself, as I did, in the center of a large vulture’s nest,

roughly hectagonally shaped, and moreso,

If you are surrounded by three excessively enormous juvenile buzzards,

quite politely and expectantly staring at you

As they would at a filet mignon or otherwise a respectable roadkill,

Attention! Please keep in the forefront of your mind:

The Laws and Customs of Vulture Society.

Governed by no one, and guided by the desert fires,

Harking back to the olden days of windstorm, and

the scream of volcano ash across the sky, and

the first crawling breaths of life, and

the first feeble steps of humanity.

Do not intrude upon the age old customs of temperance, and

Do not become so veiled with narcissism that

you fail to notice the plucking of your own eyes, and

Do not cling to what has passed.

Most crucially, take note:

That which the vultures are very particular about, involves

the cycle of life and death.

Tread lightly here, traveler.

Respect this pillar commandment:

The dead are dead. The living are living.

Never confuse the two.

And, as a general practice, avoid smelling like roadkill.