Queue of quail
Crossing the road
Right in front of my Subaru
And I’m doin’ fifty.
Male quail
In the lead
Shows no fear
And no sign of turning his
Brood to flee.
My foot hovers
Over the brake pedal
Ready
“Please fly!”
Mama quail
Turns tail
Followed by a flurry
Of fleeing offspring.
Papa quail
Toes the yellow line
Holds his ground
As my car streaks by
With only a slight ruffle
Of his top knot.
L
L
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