In praise of rescue hens

For a daughter’s heart-break deserves a ridiculous gift. 

For a trip to a poultry scrap yard show her many are spurned. 

For putting birds in a box as if they were books made us laugh. 

For as we drive home she carefully cradles a hen’s hope of happiness. 

For she named them like aunts; Petal, Patsy and Pam.

For they have wings not fingers so she needs to open their coop.

For this she has to get out of bed. 

For this she is rewarded with eggs. 

For eggs mean pancakes and pancakes mean syrup

                                                                            and syrup is sweet on her lips like kisses. 

For their comforting counsel of clucks. 

For they say buck, buck, buck when she greets them.

For they are in love with her.

For she has corn as a gift and they know her gifts are golden.

For their bottoms are bloomered.

For their crops are caramel and chocolate and cream.

For their throats purr and brood and rumble joy.

For they say ‘never mind dear’ and ‘all is well’.

For it is impossible to be sad when these feathered clowns coo and chatter.

For just as eggs house chicks they have grown in her new life. 

For they rescued her. 

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