Down and grubby indeed...it's turkey poetry time! My Thanksgiving post to you....

Good morning to you, wherever you are.

For some reason, I went to sleep last night, thinking dawn would break on a sparkling, crystalline morning, that sunlight would bounce through our lace drapes in the dining corner, that the snow would have an extra sparkly dusting on the snowman in the yard, that the sky would be blue and a cardinal would perch on the birdfeeder in the most artistic pose possible.

Well, have I mentioned I live in Minnesota?

November in MN means a sky roughly the color of a cataract, 9 days out of 10.  The longed for dusting of sparkling snow couldn't sparkle even if it had arrived.  The boot prints in our yard show up the dingy, yellow-grey grass just as vividly as they did yesterday.  Now, this isn't all bad - my head has been murky for two days with allergies or other gunk, so I am not sure how much sparkle I could take.  The gleam off Siena's party hat (er, pearlized pink cone with pastel stripes of blue and cream, plus organza ribbons and curly wrapping ribbons cascading from the tip!)  is almost too much for me.  Of course, this means the dang thing won't come off her head anytime soon today.  Damn.

Like most folks, we have to gear up food for tomorrow, plan dinner for tomorrow evening, make sure we have spare pie in the house, maybe Another batch of pumpkin bread.  My kindergarten son has no school, and his best bud is going to be here in 50 minutes or less.  The bags under my eyes (from aforementioned gunk) would be oversized at the airport, and jammies are the only thing any of us have on.  The only sparkle we are going to get this week isn't going to happen in this house unless I get busy on this house - too sick and tired to tidy up last night!  Very non-orchid house indeed! So where, you ask is the writing?  Where is the art?!  Well, maybe it ain't art, but it is poetry.  My only poem about Turkey so far.

It’s not by Chance

 

There are some people who haven't forgotten  
- that chickens once had teeth;  
- that creatures like emus once hunted in packs,  
  like wolves
- and that somewhere in the spiral
behind the eyes of a vulture
and in the hips of an ostrich
the equation for tyrant lizards lies in wait.

There are other people who know
that a wild turkey
entering a windshield at
65 miles an hour
northbound on 35W, is a gift from God
provided

- it's three days before Thanksgiving,
- the only things broken are the windshield and one bird neck,
- you have the number of a very good butcher.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

S.