Tuesday, May 26, 2009

When I Heard Those Chickens

I got up early
Set off down the road
With Jen and our dogs
Like we do every morning..

Well heading back
Along my path
I could hear
Those Chickens
A sound, nearly
Like a wailing blues

Well I thought of that hen
And a vine I'd passed
The way it hung
Right over the wire
An then just why..
I couldn't shut my mouth?


Regina said...

How the sounds :). Very nice.

sojourner said...

this poem must have a personal hidden meaning for you, jen, and the chickens - it will keep me pondering the meaning for some time to come :0)

Kilauea Poetry said...

Hey..thanks for swinging by you guys..

Eaton Bennett said...

I sense that you live in a type of paradise, sometimes memories of country life call to me; I don't answer that call too often. City slicker I am now. lovely! :)

Let's be perfectly clear- the war on free speech is spiritual!