roam the yards
flock to the sound
of an opening door
hoping for scraps
tossed our way
tasty, random, diverse
cluck and quibble
scrabble in life’s compost pile
double-scratch for juicy tidbits
snatch ideas that wriggle
moist and twisty
before moving on
as a group
play follow-my-leader
across overgrown
unmown
meadowland
picking the winged
and the shiny
from lush stems
taking time to visit shrubs
glean soft-staining fruits
leave scattered half-digested thoughts
to seed the soils or stick to souls…
now and again
we check the skies
for ominous circling shadows
lay an egg
with much announcement
or hop up on the midden-heap
spread our wings
and crow
