Chickens

As Children
sing and play.

Death remains
My companion
On this cold
Winters day.

I admire there consistency
On this season of merth.

Dead leafs fall
As Birds follow
The secret migration
Chickens hatch a plan
Drafting there retribution.

Wood smooth
Varnished with age,
I sit silently
Watching chickens
In the food isle
Scavenging turkeys
And stuffing with sage.

In memory I recall
You had since October
The turkeys will rise
And the chickens will fall
Wine will flow
And yet I remain
Totally alone.