Roosting Chickens


Standing here at the coop gate

watching the chickens roost,

I explain the state of egg laying

with enthusiasm and try to keep

the gusto from affecting the

fluttering feathered denizens

that crow or groom or nest.


At first, I was glad they came

back, cute little chickies with

big eyes and so huggable until

they began exhibiting habits I

prefered not to remember. Poop

everywhere and the smell. Molting

leaf like feathers all over the

yard that go windblown and end up

in the front lawn.


Ah, those roosting avians, how

kind of you to return and dump

on my order, to soil my clean

floors, and pollute the air with

an unhuman stench. Oh, to be free

of you, to send you to another

land or at least across a

state border.


Millennials will marvel

that chickens cast elsewhere

eventually come home. Boomers

know about this but keep

sweeping it under the carpet

because being proverbial

is considered a good thing

for senior citizens to do.







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