A Tom turkey in full breeding plumage displayed his glorious stuff yesterday in the neighborhood. The turquoise blue head, the waddle, the fanned tail all naturally acquired by the spring shifting tide of chemically induced involuntary transformation. And then there is man, the fabulous homo-erectus. We stand before the mirror. Leave unfastened one perhaps two buttons on our shirt. Pants of a certain fit. Shoes
polished. Teeth brushed and hair combed, and then perhaps a jacket to broaden out the line on the shoulders. We are not so confined by season as by day of week. Of course spring hits us hard. We get extra perky as those fantastic feminine spring fashions begin appearing here and there. Spring is just one added push on the instincts. But, it is articulate. It speaks and it urges and it pushes us to lengths, desperate measures must be considered, something must be done. You can see these creatures out and about lingering where they might be seen or see. Where love might call them by their name…where what might occur is an event that makes sense of all this clucking and preening, all this
getting ready, waiting for that singular anticipated moment when into view the whole of their life changes.
“She was self-conscious when she spotted
Noel and ran her fingers through her hair as if to tidy it up for his
approval. Noel could sense she had grit.
It was her penetrating green eyes that told this story. She also had freckles
on her face that became more noticeable as she blushed.”
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