it's strange to see a chicken
or two
in someone's yard,
a rooster too
pecking at the ground.
but there they are.
they've given them names.
talk to them
in baby talk.
hey jenny, the woman
says from her window,
hey bill.
watcha doing?
the chicken never looks
up
with her black pebble
eyes, skipping
along in a bundle of white
feathers.
she's more interested
in some bug
in the ground.
the rooster is another
story.
spreading his shoulders,
making sounds
with a sharp beak
to scare you away.
he's angry all
the time.
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