Wild Turkeys
by Jennifer Lagier
Feathery Ichabod Cranes on the lam
emerge onto city streets from oak savanna.
Lanky explorers mosey down sidewalks
into front yards where they decimate lavender vinca.
When spooked, they flap awkward wings,
crash land atop a neighbor’s shingled roof,
peer over redwood fence
into empty golf course and fair grounds.
I watch turkey triumvirate
swivel reptilian heads, shake droopy wattles,
gobble impatiently at one another as they
debate the best escape to avoid dinner platter.
Wetland Quadrille
Along winding, willow-fringed trail,
dog walkers do-si-do
with anger-inflated gander
who unfolds, then shakes
four-foot, muscular wings.
Bufflehead duck and cormorant couples
cluster among mudflats and tules,
bob and pirouette,
perform mating ritual choreography.
Sea gulls circle limp potato chips,
squawk at rude crow invaders,
squabble during lopsided tug of war
for a wilting spiral of orange peel.
Against zen background of whispering surf,
distant foghorn, clanking boat tackle,
shearwaters dance through broken shells,
pencil-legged formations of jittery curlews.
Super Moon
Luminosity lasers through shaggy redwoods,
outshines a spattering of glittery stars,
ascends to hang against celestial ceiling.
Fluffy ageratum floats below ebony sky.
Super moon transforms shadowy rose garden
into fragrant pink and yellow pinpoints.
Unable to submerge into stupor,
I abandon bedroom, join nocturnal foragers,
bathe bare skin within lunar light.
BIO
Jennifer Lagier lives a block from the stage where Bob Dylan performed with Joan Baez and Jimi Hendrix torched his guitar during the Monterey Pop Festival. She edits the Monterey Review and helps publicize Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium reading series events. Jennifer has published twenty-four books, most recently Postcards from Paradise (Blue Light Press), Illuminations (Kelsay Books), Reelin’ In the Years (Cyberwit). Forthcoming: When You Don’t See It (Kelsay Books).
Website: jlagier.net
Facebook: www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/
