I wanted sitting ducks, dust-bathing.
My hands raked the air, erring.
Half-ruffled hens shook, shocked,
fled to shade, distressed, distrusting.
Watching, father said take time, tame.
Let the twitching hens come, calm.
Gently fold feather-fingers
to clasp pulsing bodies, buddies.
Now writing, I scribble, scrabble
to catch flighty thoughts, fight
to hold on. They elude, evade,
crouch in hedges aggrieved, afraid.
Envoi
Father’s echo comforts, confirms
not to chase chickens; luck follows fallow
times, melts on the mind, mine,
here to stay, not scared, stroked,
hatching memories that hold him close.