Thursday, July 2, 2020

Death's respectful distance

I believe we can all learn to accept death, provided it keeps a polite distance.

I walked through my neighborhood. I was taking pictures of fallen flowers soaking in gutter water, of tiny bees and of old, patient cats. I took sewer grates and strange, secret worlds inside of plants. I took pictures of all these pretty things until I came to where I had last seen my local turkey flock, back between two backyards that bordered on a small patch of wild woods. I looked up there with a hopeful expectancy. There were no turkeys to be seen.

But something inert was on the grass, a hundred feet away. Lumpen and inert and tragic. I had my suspicions.

I raised my camera and zoomed in all the way.

It was a dead turkey.

I didn't take a picture.

It wasn't pretty.

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