I really love this poem, especially the way the hens are engaging in such human forms of labor! And who among us hasn’t wanted to plunge in, face-first?
I started writing it while I was out working in the yard, digging weeds out of the garden boxes and doing some pruning. If I’m outside working, the chickens will often sort of loop me into their work - they position themselves around me like I’m part of the flock (and of course wait to see if I drop or turn up anything relevant to their interests). If I’m turning over dirt they come scratch around where I’m working.
I always get the feeling when I’m digging that they’re saying, “Oh! Finally, the large, incomprehensible chicken is doing something sensible!”
This reminds me in spirt/ simplicity/images of
Ireland's most beloved poem which is sort of about potatoes.
‘When all the others were away at Mass."-Seamus Heaney (Nobel Prize)
This is excellent! The rhythm of it is so chicken-y.
I really love this! I feel like you’re continuing to grow as a poet. Perhaps one day there will be an entire booklet of chicken poems.
❤️❤️❤️
I love the images also how it sounds with all that careful internal rhyming and alliteration!!
I really love this poem, especially the way the hens are engaging in such human forms of labor! And who among us hasn’t wanted to plunge in, face-first?
Thanks, Mari!
I started writing it while I was out working in the yard, digging weeds out of the garden boxes and doing some pruning. If I’m outside working, the chickens will often sort of loop me into their work - they position themselves around me like I’m part of the flock (and of course wait to see if I drop or turn up anything relevant to their interests). If I’m turning over dirt they come scratch around where I’m working.
I always get the feeling when I’m digging that they’re saying, “Oh! Finally, the large, incomprehensible chicken is doing something sensible!”