Spring
Ten
tom
turkeys
on a
cloudy
hill
expand
their
feathers
like
creaky
courtesans
they're
old
their
power
flicks out
feather
by feather
they lord
and preen
beneath
gray
spring
light
the green
beneath
them is
new
as are
the woodchucks
the bluebirds
the thrushes
the ghost plants
or at least
these iterations
are fresh
even if
the wise
old
turkeys
are
the same.