from wet, loose-packed soil; the
constant rustling of falling, drying leaves;
and long days of upper-70s sunshine.
But the noise. Oh, the noise.
Birds cawing at each other across
the expanse of our back yard,
those leaves sliding against each other
and everything else, and my chicken.
Gone is the soul-squashing heat
of North Carolina summer. Fancy now
squawks, struts, and prowls rather than
lay still until dark mercifully arrives.
The only way to quiet her?
Food. A bowl of oatmeal, coconut
by the palm full, raisins, bread
at a push. But her favorite --
the food she taps on glass
to receive -- is the luscious grape.
It'd be annoying if Fancy wasn't
such a super cool -- though loud
and damn picky -- Miller family pet.
***This post is part of Six Word Fridays.***