An (Unconventional) Ode to Thanksgiving Turkey

I toast considerations for stemming the tide of man-made climate change and of slowing the melting of ice caps. I offer up a "Whoop-whoop!" to the victories over drought, wildfires and extinction of endangered species, and even relish in the warm new green-alternative menu being served up in Washington.

Indeed, I'm thankful for the oncoming cornucopia of change. But for some dumb reason, while I'm a thankful person and feel wickedly blessed -- I'm just not crazy about Thanksgiving. It's just too much work for so little payback. It's a holiday with its own personal, familial carbon footprint. So instead of rambling on about Thanksgiving like the love-child of Norman Rockwell and Martha Stewart, I've written a poem about the humble, edible dinosaur-throwback that sits center stage while reviving our family dysfunctions.

Ode to The Turkey

The life of a turkey pre-golden is sickening.
Please let me share while your gravy is thickening.
Some think it's weird, nasty, gory or strange,
To feast on a bird that once roamed the range.

From newly hatched poult to the moment he's plated,
Meat from a creature once so adulated.
The esteem of this poor, tasty, "almost" national bird,
Of whom we eat mountains -- 'til our vision is blurred.

He's fattened and handled and coddled for days,
Until he no longer can stand on the weight that he weighs.
From his birth through his prime, he'll never deduce,
That he was meant to be garneed with roasted produce.

Often tranquil, serene and never malicious,
Clumsy and awkward, but when cooked, to some he's delicious.
If crafty and cunning and devious he'd be,
He'd potentially skedaddle and flee filled with glee.

Unfortunately he's dumb, flat-footed, ungainly,
A life on the plain beginning so plainly.
But today he's honored with a place of distinction,
Tomorrow perhaps he'll be gone or be close to extinction.

Until that occurs, he'll be gorged on by us,
His carcass bound with a string-forming truss.
Golden and delivered from the oven with sighs,
While some fight over wings, others the thighs.

I can't stand turkey or the mess one must make,
While shopping or baking or preparing to partake.
If thankfulness is displayed by this time-honored route,
Please -- have extra turkey. I'll do without.

As it says in the book of Psalms, "Come unto his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise." Now I'm pretty certain that they weren't speaking about the food court at the mall -- though how thankful I would be if they were - that's where I'd rather be this Thanksgiving -- eating french fries and sticky buns.