What is it about hens we admire?
That bar-chuckling, noisy, chick choir!
Watching, pecking up seeds while they waddle around
Yet in every good kitchen their picture is found!
Would I dream well, or sleep in less feathery beds?
Would the cockerel be proud of the hen that he weds?
Will I wake to the odour of bacon and eggs?
Or choose between saucy mixed breasts or choose legs?
An omelette of reasons? A fine chocolate mousse?
Those chickens are tasty, but letting them loose?
Free free-range is hampered by caged wire defence
Lest foxes run mockingly in the past tense!
The reason to brood, is that motherly love
Which smothers the chicks all around
from above It gushes affection; it sweetens inside
The cluck of a mother is full of great pride!
And love of the country, of nature, fresh air;
The instinct of nesting, of feeding, of care;
The food and the feeding all count in the mix
And when the eggs hatch, it is all about chicks!