Yesterday was just one of those days that seems to drag on. Not good, not bad, just long. It can be so easy to get frustrated with those days when you feel stuck in molasses. And between the snowy weather, and a rally in our city we attended, it didn’t feel like the most poetic of days. Still, I managed to whip up a poem.
In Gratitude to Turkeys
There’s a red light ahead, but I stop anyways.
Two turkeys are standing in my lane.
It’s 8 a.m., and New England town centers are small:
That is, the intersection is packed.
How do you move two turkeys in road?
I don’t know.
(They are big, solid animals.
All earthy feathers and skin.)
I could honk, I suppose, to startle them.
I can’t bring myself to do it.
The two turkeys stand on one foot.
I never knew that.
In the next lane, cars crawl by them.
They could startle the turkeys, but don’t.
The turkeys eventually shuffle to the roadside,
Willed by nothing in particular.
The light’s still red, and again I am stopped.
Smiling on my way to work.