And the Wise Chicken Said…
I have been known to doze in the October sun,
to drift in and out of dreams under the guise
of reading and deep thought, when
the wise old chicken stood in front of me,
quizzical, as if he knew my frets and worries.
If chickens can laugh, that was the sound he made,
his bright red comb waggling in the sun.
“Silly human.” he said,
“All you need to know is that there is always food in the grass.
and a place to get out of the rain,
that the foxes are always out there waiting,
and if they find you, it is too late.”
“So enjoy the sun, silly man.
If you are loved, revel in it.
All other truths are false,
for how else can a chicken survive?”
And then strutting off,
he made that laughing sound again,
and darted his head to the ground
and I felt the warm sun
and wondered how in the world
dreams could be so wise.
About this poem
Just for fun. Thank you, Nancy Gallimore, for having such colorful chickens.