WEATHER FEATHERS
I was born just a birdie (as most turkeys are),
On a farm which from here I would say is quite far.
I was young when I learned of my horrible fate,
To be gobbled up, sliced, on a gravy-drenched plate.
When I learned this no gobbles came out of my mouth,
And I wished I could leave and then migrate down south.
But my passport, alas though, was nowhere in sight,
So I lay there, quite fearful, for most of that night.
I arose the next morn (as the early bird does),
And I shook out my feathers to rid them of fuzz.
As I ruffled my plumes in the calm morning breeze,
It was suddenly colder, by many degrees.
I was shocked as the sky turned an ominous gray,
And then thunderclouds entered, obscuring the day.
I exclaimed to myself: “I am perfectly sane!
“But by golly, I think I just summoned some rain!”
With a shiver I ruffled my feathers once more,
And the bright day returned, as it looked like before.
At this turn of events I was very intrigued,
But the ruffling I’d done left me strangely fatigued.
It was clear that I needed to build up my strength
If I wanted to ruffle at much greater length.
So I practiced and practiced again and again,
And my minutes of might leapt from one to then ten.
In the end I could bring about heat, rain, and hail,
And I knew it was likely that I would prevail!
But the calendars posted along the farm gate
Had been boldly displaying the gobbling date…
With a glance I could tell that my time was now slim,
As the seconds ticked by did my plight get more grim!
It was now or else never, and now was my chance!
I tried summoning snow with my feathery dance!
In a moment the sky had become very white.
As the snowflakes came down, I was hidden from sight.
“What is this? Snow in summer?” the farmer did yell,
Though the source of the snowing he couldn’t quite tell…
In his haste to inspect the mysterious snow,
He had not shut the gate, which allowed me to go!
It was now time to run, rather, waddle, away,
In an hour or two I’d be well on my way!
I had done it – escaped! – I was free as a bird
But abruptly a “BEEP!” was the sound that I heard…
In an instant I turned, and I managed to duck
Just a few inches under an oncoming truck!
“Why you truck driving fool!” I exclaimed in distaste
(Since I’d nearly become a mere pile of paste).
“Give me one –!” then I paused, feeling quite a large draft,
Then I paused yet again as I turned my head aft.
It was shock I felt first, which gave way to light wrath
As I realized my feathers lay strewn on the path.
It was pain I felt next, which gave way to despair
As I realized my feathers might lie past repair.
Nonetheless, I scooped up all my plumes off the street
But while scooping I noticed…a dull wave of heat?
I was startled – my defeathered feathers still worked!
There was some sort of power which in them still lurked!
An idea then hit me (a great one indeed) –
Why not help, with my plumes, fellow turkeys in need?
It appeared that a neighboring farm was nearby,
So I waddled that way (though I wished I could fly).
I arrived at the farm in the late afternoon,
And it seemed I’d arrived not a moment too soon:
There was only a pitiful, single day more,
Till the whole crowd of birds would be shipped out the door!
All the turkeys there gawked at my avian form,
Which deplumed looked undoubtedly out of the norm.
But their faces lit up when I quickly explained,
That my plumes could affect when it snowed, or it rained!
With a flourish I fluttered a feather with speed,
And concealed by some snow we were turkeys now freed!
I distributed one of my feathers to each,
And in ways of the weather the birds I did teach.
Thus equipped they’d become quite a competent band –
They could now help out turkeys all over the land.
With a nod in assent, understanding their quest,
I was sure they’d accomplish their weathery best.
In the years that have followed my plumes have grown back,
And like clockwork I visit the truck driving track.
With a duck and a zoom I get fresh plumes to give,
I’ll continue to do this as long as I live!
Featured Image designed by Rachel Ustoyev
