Rebecca Ye // TURKEY CROSSING

Strutting at a leisurely pace

A swirl of golden black feathers

appears ahead.

Its head

strung high,

chest puffed out.

Another follows

another

and another.

Left, right, left,

like soldiers in formation,

marching across the warzone.

The wildly overgrown field of grass,

wet from last night’s rain,

a habitat for juicy slugs

and grasshoppers with a good crunch.

They see it on the other side,

so close,

so close,

as if they did not

cause the traffic on I-95.

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