In the rocker creaking
back and forth
on the porch of the old farm house,
Aunt Emma, shelling peas,
observes the rooster chase her prize hen
around and around the yard,
dirt, grass, and feathers flying.
Poor darlin, cries Aunt Emma.
Ruffled hen near panic,
flaps her wings
and hovers above the wood pile,
squawking disconcertion,
folding wings to catch her wind,
the rooster gaining ground.
Poor darlin, cries Aunt Emma,
rocking and shelling her peas.
Alas, poor hen, at last
exhausted…
squawking, squalling, skittering,
the rooster at her tail,
high-stepping across the yard,
flies over the wire fence
as a pickup truck is passing.
Poor darlin, cries Aunt Emma,
prefers death.
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Love Always,
Chanti Lace xoxo
Peace, love, and light,
Amber "V"
Well penned, Gene!
Animal vs. vehicle: It has been a very ruff time around the den.
I see an analogy here to America's presidential choices: POOR DARLIN'!
Loved it Gene --- Rockie
Newfie Hugs, Rose
you are a wicked man as well as being a great writer and communicator.
I particularly like the style of this, casual, almost offhand, an 'ah well' air in the face of those mongrels lust and death.
John
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
Be always safe,
Karen