Pristine hens,
covered in golden feathers had penned
me a welcome note
to show me where all her, and their eggs were.


... I never stirred in the mornings,
because our rooster was a horror show.

He'd blow out bellows and blankets of snot covered win,
that began to make us feel like sinners for only living.


Still every day...
We'd sit there and lay.
And stay....
and lay.
Every day and every morning.

I'm sorry I wasn't more for you, Sir.
I"m sure you'd rather I were.
But all I am is a chicken, Sir...
Really!!!
That's all I ever really were...