Turkey’s, Turkey’s, Turkey’s©

We walk out the door
All set to go
But we are stopped
By a family of Turkey’s
Just grazing about
As if they belong here
There should be no doubt
They’ve taken the wrong turn
But it’s obvious they’re not done here
As they head to the back yard
They seem to mean business
There’s no messing around
They now walk with their heads up
Just poking about
Only a plain overhead makes them scurry on out
We all yell
Bye old friends
Til we meet again

Turkey’s, Turkey’s, Turkey’s©

Copyright 2014

by Felina Silver Robinson