Mother Hen and The Crooked Cock.

Birds of the feather flock,
Birds of one father may not,
The chicken in our coop:
Mother hen sat on twelve eggs,
Eight hatched,
Others stale.
Daily she walks the chicks,
Spots grain,
Selectively feeding them,
Warms them,
She has devotion,
Chicks and hen connected-
Conducting heat,
Sheltered under bulging wings,
Under the shadow dwelling secure.

All this while,
The cock roams freely,
A bird in display,
Majestic in stature,
Strongest of them all,
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!”,
He sends alarm.
The loose rooster wanders,
He spins around for copulations,
While hens their eggs daily lay,
He fends off the best grains,
Outcompeting weakling chicklings.

See how mother hen persists,
For she must raise her offspring,
And while the rooster crows all day,
He knows not what grain they eat,
And though he’s blessed with longer wings,
He spends his warmth alone,
Every chilly day and every dark cold night.
The rooster grooms,
The crooked cock is gloom.

6.1.19

2 thoughts on “Mother Hen and The Crooked Cock.

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