As the air turns brisk the leaves fall like coloured paper on the disappearing green
I take on a daunting task that most men in the new world have never seen.
I stand alone in a brightly lit room with music playing equipment at the ready.
Trying in a way only the ancient would know to keep my hand firm and steady.
How many more opportunities like this will play out in my final living years?
Pain racks an aging body and soul, I am now only afraid of fears.
I grasp the blade and approach the task at hand careful with every slice
Trying to be sure beyond doubt that all I reap will be enough to suffice.
This is the chore that comes about perhaps twice to a stalwart man
Standing over the carcass, glaring and planning as only a hero can.
This turkey has lost and I will clean its sturdy bones until they shine
When the job is done and the bowl sits quaking on the board...he’s mine!