Strutting

All we could do is stare in awe at this fabulous, feathered display. This afternoon, Tom turkey strutted his stuff along the side of the park road, leaving behind prehistoric claw prints in the snow. In all his inflated glory, he was the highlight of today's hike. (And what an eerie garbled gobble!) Check out the flashy black and white patterns of his feathers, the perfect fan of his tail, and the surprise of his pale blue eyeshadow against his crimson head and neck. For several minutes, his strange and bold beauty shook us out of ourselves into the vivid day.

Here are the final four lines from R. S. Thomas' poem, "The Calling":

.... Learn the thinness
of the window that is
between you and life, and how
the mind cuts itself if it goes through.

This is another piece from The Poetry of Our World: An International Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, edited by Jeffery Paine with Kwame Anthony Appiah, Sven Birkerts, Joseph Brodsky, Carolyn Forche and Helen Vendler, from Harper Collins Publishers, 2000. R. S. Thomas is from Wales. Click on image to enlarge.

I just remembered -- in October, I wrote a "postcard" about wild turkeys for wigleaf . Click on the magazine title to read it. You can also read my flash fiction piece, "One-Handed Prayer," by clicking on the link at the bottom of that page.

Thaw

So much glittering ice this winter. The stairs, the brick walk, and the steep driveway are all treacherous runways leading to slapstick crash landings. Especially in the dark. Today: thaw at last. Just saying February sounds warmer. (Parallel mood thaw?)

Here are several selected lines plucked (not in order, sorry -- just wanted that first one first) from Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska's poem "Under a Certain Little Star," translated by Magnus J. Krynski and Robert A. Maguire:

Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing now and again.

Let happiness be not angry that I take it as my own.

I apologize to time for the muchness of the world / overlooked per second.

I apologize to the cut-down trees for the table's four legs.

I apologize to the big questions for small answers.

This piece appeared in The Poetry of Our World: An International Anthology of Contemporary Poetry, edited by Jeffery Paine with Kwame Anthony Appiah, Sven Birkerts, Joseph Brodsky, Carolyn Forche, and Helen Vendley. (Harper Collins Publishers, 2000)

The photos were taken yesterday, right here inside my own personal ice. Thanks to Thea for the miniature creatures. They make me laugh.