Tall turkey gobblers,
bigger than me,
one on each side,
my protectors,
walked me up and down
the rocky path.
When my mother came out
to check on me,
they chased her back inside,
flapping wings spread wide.
They knew that I was small
and in need of protection.
Somewhere there is a photo of me, maybe fifteen months old, being walked by my turkey gobbler friends.
Your poem brought a smile to my face as I was picturing you escorted by the tall turkeys.
ReplyDeleteSmiling as I read this!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful memory!!
ReplyDeletefantastic ~
ReplyDeleteSmiling at this delightful memory.
ReplyDeleteYou must have understood mother nature from an early age - wonderful memory
ReplyDelete