By the Reservoir

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This morning I saw a wild turkey leap across a wet ditch,

wings tucked back, toes pointed, long legs open scissors

as his large light body arced slow and high and effortless.

Then he gobbled– like muted trumpets– with his mates,

who were sipping water from the same ditch,

and then he fluffed up his dark jeweled plumage,

and set it back in place with a shake,

a subtle, slow strut.

 

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