Smother Hen final version

Smother Hen

Wings stretch, she strut the coop

big, loud; feathers bold

 on the surface no dupe.

Observers note all is not good;

chicks scratch for seeds, as she

shadows, eyes within their hood

scattered wide, corrals, won’t let be.

Chicks are hers, all others banned.

Demonstrate who is in charge

pecking order counts, shove barge.

Only one is important, all else are damned,

what use are other opinions?

Other fowl are her minions.

Beneath the surface all is not well

shifting sand expose the shell

enables feet to drift, stumble and fall

cry wolf, and, who will hear the call?

Disillusioned neighbours drift away

practised her tongue sharpens its edge

quick cuts through night into day

possible friendships left for dead.

This the saddest story ever told:

Solitary, proud she walks alone

even her prized chicks flown.