An old black vulture landed in a tree
overlooking Chickamauga Creek;
gave me a sidelong glance.

I thought of Edward Abbey,
critic of government agencies,
professor and park ranger.

Abbey is buried in an illegal grave;
a cairn of stones covers
his remains.

His friends saw to his request,
wrote on one stone,
“Edward Abbey, no comment.”

The nemesis of Glen Canyon Dam
desired no memorial,
got one anyway.

He always said he’d come back
as a vulture next time,
just seemed fitting.

I looked up into the oak,
said, “Hey there Ed,
looks like a good day for flying.”

Abbey didn’t say a word
just gave me that sidelong look,
the old buzzard.