By Marilyn Jones, Schoolcraft’s Poet Laureate
We all teased my son, Larry
A “Taj Mahal” for chickens,
As he built a coop for birds
But when it was done, we ate our words.
Five red-feathered chickens moved right in
A large, fenced area made a good home,
They became pets and were happy there
Those chicks are the reason for this poem.
We had lots of good, fresh eggs
Poached for breakfast, scrambled for lunch,
Those speckled red hens
Were a generous bunch.
I made pudding and custards
Those eggs came in handy,
When friends tried my muffins
They agreed, they tasted dandy.
In my garage there is a sack
With empty egg cartons to be refilled,
I know that chicken food isn’t free
But there was never any charge to me.
When Larry went outside one morning
He went to greet his chicks,
They always came running, clucking, “Hi”
That day it was quiet, and he wondered why.
A weasel had dug his way in
With a hole under the fence, dug deep,
The chicks were all dead but one
Shaking with fear, it could barely peep.
What a bloody mess to clean up
Larry’s heart was heavy, that sad day,
He has a big supply of food for one hen
And got busy repairing the fence right away.
I wonder if chickens have a “Hereafter”
Do they have a soul, as people do?
They had “Heaven on Earth” for awhile
We’ll never know to where they flew.