Chickens (Or What Might Have Been)


(or What Might Have Been)

April, hungry for green

we planted baby

vegetables and flowers too, sweet

peas, lettuces, and yellow-veined chard,

pansies, cheerful

sentries at each corner and something

in the center I can’t remember

because all afternoon the hot

wind blew, the weary

gate-latch finally gave way. Worse

than cicadas they came, rapacious

and deadly as the dinosaurs

they recall. To mind

would not be fair: the hot wind blew,

our feathered friends

did only what we would have, hungry

for everything sweet and new,

too bird-brained to know any better.

If we had only taken some small

precaution – considered the wind perhaps –

there might have been more,

enough for us all.

~ Virginia Bellis, April 2013

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