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Cluck turns a cry
Near the yard, I heard the mother bird's loud cluck,
A signal to pull a sly trick on the hick.
Yuck! Her chicks all ran wild and scampered amok,
Scattered by the bumpkin swinging a big stick.
The dispersed chicks drew a cast of circling hawks,
That were happy to see meals within their grasp.
The hick and the hen, they must quickly outfox.
One hawk swooped low, its talons poised to clasp.
A chick grasped, the hawk then tried to fly away,
Mother hen ran after the hawk, eyes fire raged.
Fight ensued; chick-hunting again went astray.
The chick broke free when hawk and hen both engaged.
Like incense in a flower's heart, the chicks hid,
Their clucks hung like heavyweights on their weak necks.
Unseen tears of fear welled in their thin eyelids,
At least, from hawks their mother earned some respect.
Copyright ©
Maclawrence Famuyiwa
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