T recently wrote this poem for school, it pertains to farming so I thought I would share it…
Hens
Ten Brown hens
Two layers of blue
Eight chickens white as snow in pens
They all fly, but not as high as wrens,
Watch out on the steps…eeeewwww
Ten Brown hens
The white as fast as benz
As they speed along they coo
Eight chickens white as snow in pens
Chased by all of those mens
They all wake up to the dew
Ten Brown hens
They are out of there pens!
Maybe they flew!
Eight chickens white as snow
All of them try to find dens instead of pens
Poo on your shoe, boohoo
Ten Brown hens
Eight chickens white as snow.
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Trace, I don’t know that you’d agree, though your poem, to me, is about love. Love of those things and beings that move in and out of your life, like hens even when they poo.
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