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Maybe Catapults

Mass. Audobon
Once upon a necessity
to escape the ties that bind
in a small Iowa town
I built a log house fifteen miles
farther into the countryside.

Once while building that house
I heard wild turkeys strutting
down a fence line so I stood
as still as I could and watched.

They came three of them
seeing me leerily
but baffled by my stillness
came anyway toward the woods
peeking up like stitches
above the dry grass
down the fence line.

The neighbor's rooster
more morning crow than hero
heard and saw them
across the draw
and came running
farther than he knew it was
arriving finally almost
at the intruders
larger than the rooster
by God intended.

He stopped
ducked one might say
his head and hid for home.

In Yellville Arkansas
at the Yellville Turkey Trot Festival
the Yellville Air Farce
drops live turkeys 
from a low flying low life plane
onto the Yellville
Turkey Trot festivalgoers
as near as one can steer
a terrified turkey
bound for glory.

This year all of the turkeys
survived the drop
but were run down
by Arkansawyers
armed with appetites.

I don't know how
those who prefer ham
hunt hogs.

Or pumpkins.

Maybe catapults.

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