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.