Young Love

 

Tom is outside my window at this very moment, proclaiming to the world that he’s got his woman and no one had better mess with her. Or him.

If he could fling his arm negligently over her shoulder (assuming he had an arm and she had a shoulder) in the style of teenage love everywhere, I bet he’d do it.

The non-stop gobbling is pretty impressive, too.

         Earlier today when I was out gardening he and I almost had our own High Noon moment, staring each other down across the backyard.

I sat very still, thoughts of sharp turkey talons on my mind, but he eventually took a left and cut past the garage.