I wanted sitting ducks, dust-bathing.

My hands raked the air, erring.

Half-ruffled hens shook, shocked,

fled to shade, distressed, distrusting.

 

Watching, father said take time, tame.

Let the twitching hens come, calm.

Gently fold feather-fingers

to clasp pulsing bodies, buddies.

 

Now writing, I scribble, scrabble

to catch flighty thoughts, fight

to hold on. They elude, evade,

crouch in hedges aggrieved, afraid.

 

Envoi

Father’s echo comforts, confirms

not to chase chickens; luck follows fallow

times, melts on the mind, mine,

here to stay, not scared, stroked,

 

hatching memories that hold him close.