Poetry
The trouble with chickens
A giant storm threatens
In the distance
Rumbles like waves on an angry beach
Thunder strikes
The dog barks
her anxiety unleashed
The chickens cower
I cuddle the canine
But the chickens lower to the ground
I cannot reach them
Human hands mean
Plucking to the air
Unfair restrictions
Awkward touch on feather
Do they feel
An unknown goddess
Thrashes the skies?
Do they feel
An eagle
Big as their dreams
Beats its wings
Over the heavens
Signalling their demise?
I cannot talk sense to them
Cannot say
This is storm
Infinite design of heaven
Sent by the mistress
They flail wildly
This way and that
Under the coop
Through the dust bath area, under stairs
Into their playpen
Filled with uneaten food
the angry goddess thunders
the skies
I cannot tell them
This will pass
Cannot hold them to me
Cannot reason
With unhinged chickens
Another bolt kisses ground
Booms the earth
The dog barks ballistic
The chickens in their
Screech and clamour
Forget to breathe
They squat
As if this giant
Will come and collect them
Obliterate them
And their feathery dream
Of unlimited grains, and greens galore
They cannot
Wipe the slate of the past
To understand this greater goddess
governess of the skies
She unleashes her Being
on the dry Desperate earth
Energising soils like Frankenstein
Only Greater
Across earth
No single monsters for her
Hers is a canvas worth the painting
First she splatters fat drops
Dust plashing
Then rivulets
First blase
Meandering the surface
Finding the cracks
Then
with growing confidence
Water pelts
more insistent
bathing caked soil
insisting
every edge
is filled
brimming
They cannot understand
She is the harbinger of life.
The chickens
Blind with terror cower
Unhinged to the miracle
Of an earth renewed
