A Witty Experience
Droplets of rain bleed into my notebook,
The pen rests in my hand,
Yet my mind drifts,
Wandering with the cool breath of summer.
A tap!
A sudden jolt pulls me back.
I turn, but it is no hand.
A turkey clings to my gown, its beak tearing at the very cloth I wear.
Its eyes… sharp, burning,
Accuse me as if I have awakened its wrath.
The door creaks open… and more emerge.
An army of turkeys, their wings spread like soldiers on parade, marching towards me.
I glance at my gown, red as spilled blood, a fatal invitation.
I run. The earth betrays me, tripping me into its arms.
I fall, and the dust swallows my breath.
When I lift my eyes… not turkeys, but the local goat, horns low, rage in its stance.
I scream. I shout. I cry as though death itself charges upon me.
Because it does.
L