A Silent Night
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He touches me in the early dawn
Hours before the chickens start to
Peck the rich, toasted earth around
Their pen, clucking with enthusiasm
For the tassels of rich emerald lawn
Coming away with them as they peck
Relentlessly with a fervor that dances
Merrily to the tune of cackling, fussing
Peppered with crows from the rooster’s
Fertility gloating, he swaggers, preening
Sensing the way his heart will mourn
On the days the hen sits on her almond
Shaped eggs, awaiting the time when
There will be new life tapping its way
Through the tough shells to be trained
By the hen to feed, bath and seek
Refuge, as I chase out the lines
Of his hands against my breast in the
Morning, while we embrace, caressing
Sighing, whispering, just before the light
Shines down from the sky to warm my
Thighs and trace a glimmer of hope
Along the edge of the silent night
August 20, 2020
Copyright © Regina Mcintosh | Year Posted 2020
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