The Luckiest People Eat Humble Pie
The first person I encountered today
wasn’t supposed to be dragon, glaring
mom’s disapproval down at me, no way!
Her red claws caged me where I stood staring,
holding the last piece of sweet pumpkin pie.
Her magic engulfed me and my skin itched.
“Mom this is child abuse!” I cried but my
words left my beak as chirps. My form she’d switched
again for a bird’s wings but why this time?
“I told you not to start another war.”
Mom’s flaming eye enlarged showing my crime.
Bloated bodies, sun-baked, are dead from war.
I eat the dead because I’m a vulture;
I eat humble pie like a shamed creature.
~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~