(Poem) The Hens on Christmas Morning by Mary Saracino

The hens greet me at the fence
this Christmas morning
hungry for feed, for scratch
for good cheer, fresh water.
The air is crisp and cool, the sky brilliant
blue against the bare tree branches
this quiet, sunny morning.
As others unwrap presents in a flurry,
I gather the gift of eggs from the coop
and thank the black and brown creatures for their generosity.
They cluck and fuss as I nod goodbye,
cradling their fragile, oval gems
in my grateful hands.

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Read Meet Mago Contributor, Mary Saracino.

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