Turkey, blue head on the ground,
body in a gleaming white tub
with lion claw feet.
Heat rises in the yard
melting crystals of ice
and there are feathers, bronze,
metallic blue and green
that were his strong wings
which never flew away.
And we give thanks for it
and for the old woman,
shawl pulled tight around her
she sits
her teeth brown
her body dry
her spoons
don’t match.
Some geese, last stragglers
trickling out of Canada
are flying over.
Noisy, breaking the glass sky
gray
they are gray
and their wings are weightless.