By |

a child wraps herself

around the milk-chocolate feathers

of a bantam chicken,

its fleshy red comb wobbles

as the young girl’s grip

tightens with affection,

then loosens in apprehension

that borders on fear

as the hen clucks and shimmies,

anxious for its freedom

to root and strut and peck

in the dust and strewn feed

with the rest of its impassive flock  

By |

the boy is a puzzle

inconsistencies abound and yet,

occasional wisdom, keen insight

gems I never possessed

when I was his age

sometimes, lacking even now —

how, I wonder, did that come to be?