I cycled solo as a Kurd
That jumps and flies o’er stream and tree,
When in a blink I saw a herd
A flock of many a turkey:
Upon the ground, beyond something
Running and flying on the wing.

Constant as the river below
That turns around each twisty bend,
They came in flock that seemed to grow
A group I could not comprehend:
Scores were there, all in a minute
Gobbling, squawking in dispute.

The trees around them sang, but they
Out-sang the dancing trees with noise,
The turkeys beckoned me to stay
By all the loudness of their voice:
I looked and looked but didn't know,
How much for me this sight would grow:

For now, whenever in class I wane
Without a thought of thinking much,
I see them in my tired brain
Which is the quietness of such;
And with head full of memory,
I find joy with thought of turkey.