Twas the Night Before Thanksgivng . . . by Diane Loew


Twas the night before Thanksgiving, when all through the house
Not a husband was stirring; he left that to his spouse.
The table was set by the wife with such care,
In hopes that the in-laws would all soon be there.

The children were snuggled and nested in beds
While visions of turkey legs danced in their heads.
Me in my curlers, Farmer in his John Deere cap
Had finally settled in for a Thanksgiving nap.

When on the back porch there arose such a clatter
I yelled “Farmer! Someone is taking your ladder!”
Over to the slider I ran like a flash
My face to the window my nose did I smash.

The mercury light that was all a glow
Displayed to me what I had to know.
When what to my confused eyes did appear
But a gaggle of turkeys and one lonely deer.

They formed a line so neatly and quick
I knew in a moment they’re up to a trick.
Then from the sandbox came more of the same
The deer whispered and pointed and called them by name.

“Now Thomas, now Stuffing, now Cranberry Sauce
On Gravy, on Pumpkin. Listen! I’m the boss.
Take that ladder and go on up to the wall
Now dash away, dash away, do not fall!”

As dry leaves that swirled and floated on by
Those that don’t land in the pool fly in the sky.
So up to house with the ladder they flew
With the deer pushing and shoving a few.

Then in a moment I heard up on the roof
Another fat turkey and deer on the hoof.
As I stood there and looked all around
They went to the window with hardly a sound.

The ladder was moved over and held with a foot
The turkey in camouflage and his face covered in soot.
A rope and a crowbar he had on his back
He was breaking in the window with his backpack.

His face was flushed, his eyes were quite wary
His cheeks were puffed out his nose was hairy.
In his beak was an ice pick, carried just so
His wattle was tied back with a black leather bow.

He pecked at the window with the pick in his teeth
He broke it open and threw out my wreath.
He worked through the hole being careful of his belly
He slipped and got cut and bled like red jelly.

He moved to the counter with such grace and stealth
He’s taking my turkey I wailed to myself!
“Farmer get up, get out of the bed
We got a live turkey, he needs to be dead!”

The turkey was busy going to work
He heard me and then turned with a jerk.
He dashed out the window with the turkey in tow
Yelling “Get out of here, follow the does.”

The deer sprang to their feet and gave a shrill whistle
They started to cuss when they fell on a thistle.
I heard the Tom turkey squawk as he flew out of sight
“There will be one less Turkey this Thanksgiving Night.”

By Diane Loew

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