The dozen bantams stand here & there
in hay-sprinkled brown dust, feathered
muffs around their ankles. Trees twenty
feet away disappear in the fog. One after
another flaps up into a box to lay quail-
sized eggs, white & brown & unspeckled
& so small, so strong, they’re too much
work to break & eat. The bantams rush
to humans, they skitter away. Here is
clean water, there grain, in the shallow
hole fresh mounds of vegetable compost.
How are we different? Eating & giving
& expecting someone we rush to & skitter
from, our books & bicycles false essentials.
We finger lettuce leaves for slugs the birds
would make short work of. As night falls
they crowd into roofed boxes, locked away
as we are — in houses, beds — all night.
as we are — in houses, beds — all night.
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