Thanksgiving

The turkey stays over the hill
They hide from the farmer's wife
She prepares to whet her knife
Sharpening for making the kill
The turkey finds it hard to hold still
As it fears the end of its life
She nears its hiding spot rife
With guilt for the blood to spill
Then seeing the immobile bird
She thought of her childhood pet
She considered the food she'd make
President's pardon she heard
Returning the knife to set
Tofurkey in oven to bake _