Wild Turkeys on the Road Near Home
Tribal elders in their feathered garb
pow-wow in the middle of the road.
Bright red wattles shake
from bright blue faces
(reminding me of
rabid football fans) .
Smiling drivers stop,
though with a slight discomfort
to see something so ancient
that Johnny-come-lately, reason,
makes no sense of it at all.
poem by Max Reif
Added by Poetry Lover
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