Tommy and his mommy. Photo by Cynthia J. House, Woman of Arts and Letters, Corn Hauler Extraordianaire.My dear friend Cindy House, who feeds a flock of Meleagris gallopavo in her New Hampshire backyard that currently numbers 72, reacts to my attempt at poetry:
Julie,
I couldn't help but notice that the only bird picture from your recent trip was that of a turkey. And not just any ol' turkey but an ocellated one. And you couldn't just write "Hey guys, I saw an Ocellated Turkey today - very cool," but you had to write poetry about it and the ruins and the bowls of blood. . . .well, la-dee-da, la-dee- da. . . seems to me that you were trying to say just one thing - you're jealous of my turkeys! You thought about my turkeys all the time on your trip and you just couldn't stand it, so this way your way of getting back. But I'm not letting all your fancy words intimidate me or my turkeys because I can write poetry about turkeys too.
There once was a turkey named Tommy,
Whose flock all thought him quite balmy.
He got in a fight with his head stuck tight,
Down the throat of his very own mommy!
Take that!!
Cindy has me pegged, as usual. I cower in your artistic and literary shadow, CJH.
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