The Turkey Gives Thanks Poem

The Turkey Gives Thanks

Thanksgiving is my favorite feast.
The table’s set, the napkins creased.
We always have a great big crowd
With uncles, aunts and children loud.

The grownups shoo us to our chairs
With pushing hands and parent stares.
We wait to eat — but this part’s quirky.
Our main dish is never, ever turkey!

Our grandpa will not eat this bird.
On this he gave his solemn word.
Years ago when he was young,
He vowed it not to pass his tongue.

As a boy, he lived beside
The rolling Polish countryside.
The turkeys (this is so unkind)
Would chase and bite his small behind.

So even though it’s quite the norm,
He shuns the bird in every form.
I understand how grandpa feels
And how it’s changed his life-long meals.

But me, I’d rather take attack.
Once a year, I’d bite them back!

Poem by Denise Rodgers
Copyright © Denise Rodgers
All rights reserved.

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