A Prose Poem, with Buzzard help

Of what am I made?

When asked the question,

"what are you made of,"

what do you say?  

There is the old adage,

"girls are made of honey,

flowers and nice things

while boys are from pigs tales."

Thus said:  I was dropped

on a rock by a bird and

the sun hatched me. 

I'm made from that egg.

The egg, best to my knowledge

is made of whatever the bird

had been eating while she

formed it.  This goes with

"what you are is what you eat."

My mother bird, 
A buzzard**told me the other night, 
was helping eat a dead deer 
in the ditch the week before 
she laid the egg.

And dead bugs on the

way home every night.

Those stock answers hold
the answer still today. 
_ _ _ _

 - Photo and Poem Copyright © 2017 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved

 - I'm linked with Magaly Guerrero, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, “I Am Made of…” (Poetry and Flash Fiction with Magaly), http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2017/06/i-am-made-of-poetry-and-flash-fiction.html

 - Magaly's words: "I invite you to ask yourself, what am I made of? Then craft your answer into a 3-stanza poem or a very short story (of 131 words or fewer)."  I used exactly 131 words with my title and since it is prose poetry broken up into groups of short lines (not verses?).

 - **I came onto this pictured group of buzzards feeding on the dead dear while driving near Montgomery, Texas.  One from this group told of my mother bird.