Even Chickens Wear Crowns

A scraggy little hen
Has her wattles in a flap
Her crown distinctly tilted
With eyes focused nowhere
Her nostrils full of grit
And she can’t find the water

So in the earth she scratches
She digs, she sneezes, she squawks
Marking the ground beneath her
With many permanent scars
Cluck cluck bwark, she gives up
And heads home to roost

Yet there’s other hens in turmoil
Scratching, looking, ruffling feathers
All equally confused
All equally scraggy
So the hen with wattles flapping
Flicks her crown top centre
We’re all just as clumsy
Scarring ground, nostrils blocked

The cockerel begins to crow
Sunset in thirty, get to bed!
The ruffled feathers all line up
Upon their same perch
Inside their one roof
Let’s please calm down
We’re equally crowned

© Copyright: Sharon Lawson™

2 thoughts on “Even Chickens Wear Crowns

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