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Wild Turkeys
The way they moved-
the herd of wild turkeys
through the fields near Spirit Rock
as if they were on a pilgrimage
to some unknown promised land.
Some in full regalia-tail feathers spread wide.
Others, their thin necks stretched out
with their great red gobblers
dangling below.
The air was still, the sky hung silent
like a frozen movie frame
mesmerized by these birds
who were not flighty like seagulls,
but walked like a proud tribe,
determined to touch the earth.
And I wondered if I had been a turkey
would I feel shortchanged
that I really wasn’t meant for flying
and my descendents would become the biggest
commodity at a Thanksgiving meal.
None of this mattered.
It was the way they carried their
massive turkey bodies through the autumn fields.
Erect, on a migratory mission
fifty more or so
turkeys, wild turkeys shouting god's name
in each and every tailfeather.
-Terri Glass |
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