They move, quick and sure,
In a line, they cross the road
Like short, grey gentlemen
The noise that protests
Screeching vigilantly, violently
Like a relentless cough
Echoes on the edges of fences
That edge the pastures
They savor the ticks and mosquitoes
Lingering a little at the puddle
Caused by a hard rain just yesterday
The candor that gives them
Almost a enchanted demeanor
Causes the turkeys...
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