In the morning, when the small birds
have been chirping for hours
and it’s been light, not just gray,
for twenty, thirty minutes, I know
the hens are whining to come down
from the long night in the roost.
I pour my coffee, cinch my robe, and wrestle
the cranky garage door so I can pad
to the coop in my ripped felt clogs.
The dopes tumble down the ramp
or jump from the nest box when I let them
(it’s an adventure). They take a bite
of pellets on the way out the door
and eat weeds between stretches and flaps.
Suddenly they remember the water jar
and race to be first to scoop and swallow
then it’s off to the garden.
They are so happy to start the day,
to slake their thirst and dig right in.
I used the Day 6 prompt from NaPoWriMo.net, which was to write an aubade, a morning poem. And yes I actually wrote it yesterday, just was too tired to post it online by the time I had a draft.🙂