Raised on my lap
as newly hatched out chicks
Dover and Devon were
my special ones
lovely to my eyes
their speckled feathers
white dots elegant
against the chestnut brown
since Roman times they'd
been a British breed
good layers hardy stock
the fearful night
a raccoon took their
less resilient sisters
they somehow knew just
where and how to hide
they liked to follow me
around the yard
as if I were the mother
that they never knew
they'd let me ruff their necks
and their bright eyes
reflected back my own
deep curiousity
could it have been a kind
of chicken love?
I think at very least
we were good friends