Yard Sale of Thoughts

Chirp, chirp
the week-old chick
wobbles out
at red dawn.

His golden fleece
not yet feathered;
his newborn limbs
barely bent,
he makes his way
’round life’s circular pen,
growing strong
on homegrown rations.

During day’s revolution,
the chick discovers
his own reflection
in a shallow waterer.

As he wades a little farther,
his rays descend.
But one loud cluck
brings the cockerel
back between
his mother’s legs.
She’s a broody hen,
a white cloud
in the center of
infinite
blue plumage.

© 2023 | K.Hartless

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Penned for Twisted Tuesdays… The art of Kenojuak Ashevak
“Suns Return”