Turkey Time

Professor Daniel Finch gave us an assignment for Thanksgiving break which was to draw a postcard with the theme "What Turkey Means To Me." I opted out of doing one about the country of Turkey or drawing what I am thankful for and instead one that touches on some to worries and expectations of preparing the Thanksgiving Feast. I wrote a fictional poem (I am using the term loosely) that goes along with it:

Oh, tasty turkey,
so big and so round,
you nearly weighed
forty-three pounds.

Oiled and seasoned
into the oven you go.
You should take
about five hours or so.

While you were roasting
the table was set.
The whole family was coming,
by car or by jet.

Grandma from Topeka,
Aunt Grace and Suzanne,
all of the cousins from Detroit,
Uncle James in from Pakistan.

Everyone was starving
and waiting for you.
I said, "three more minutes,
or maybe just two."

And finally your timer
beeped loud and clear.
The waiting was over,
Dinner finally here.

The family crowded in
wanting to see
I put on my oven mitts
and got down on one knee.

I opened the door
a small smile on my face
but there in the oven
was a terrible disgrace.

You were not golden brown,
and not even warm.
you were colder in the oven
than back on the farm.

Well apparently
said my cousin Ron
while we are cooking
we should turn the oven on.