Small Town Hens


When forced from the safety of the coop

how the hens cackle

Seeking safety in numbers

they gather in the shadow of the big city

clucking as they scratch dirt in designer shoes

Preening their feathers, they cluck raucously

Viciously plucking as they jostle

for placement in imagined pecking orders

Each self-appointed tour guide struts confidently

Doing her best peacock impression

Trying to display vibrant colors

that don’t exist in that old barnyard

A squawking crescendo builds

while crashing melodies and false notes

muffle cries of innocent chicks

Flamboyant egos misinterpret social cues

that would quiet even the crowing rooster

Unapologetic in their hunger for attention

Chickens sometimes eat their own

Chickens eat their own


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