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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