Patsy and I drove north over a two-lane road.
We stopped to picnic along the roadside.
As we ate our sandwiches, a flock
of turkeys appeared. They made turkey
sounds as they wandered among
the shadows of coastal oaks.

As we watched the bird, the world seemed
to become more glorious, and we began
to discuss our early days, “I remember,
she said.” “I remember too,”
I replied as we discussed the time
we discovered each other’s body.

How breathless we became. How nice we
became as we sat there discussing how
it was to lay side by side, and how we enjoyed
the feel of each other’s skin. Even though
her cancer had spread, we were lucky to grow
as old as we could together.

As the sun passed over the trees’ crown, we
watched the turkey’s wander through the trees.
We were no longer ignorant of death and
lived as best we could within his shadow. And so,
we sat, holding hands and enjoying the
chattering of the wild turkeys.