After the Table of Plenty

On my way to Bell Buckle Thanksgiving morning, Highway 82 was clear.  

On my way home, twenty-four hours later, I noticed the vultures -- a half dozen or so perched in a twisted tree.  On returning my gaze to the highway, I saw the rib cage lifted from the pavement like church vaulting, two vultures (vested priests?) still pulling at what flesh was left.  Deer, I knew, though there was little left that was recognizably "deer" other than size.

Today, on a brief walk along the Goat Track, I saw many skeletal Queen Anne's Lace heads and thought of the austere beauty of forms that lie beneath.