by Kara Beechler
My father-in-law owns land in a state of delusion
They call it Florida
You know, the one that promised divine conclusion
Each morning he wakes
Eats his homegrown eggs
and leftover pancakes
Soon he is greeted by the leader of the flock
With a loud shout
that echoes throughout
Good grain, grass
green moss
Feathers floating,
Then claws adjust
He said the Gators lost.
Then they had a record frost.
So with the coop now covered in hay,
I can confidently say—
Florida Man Bill named each one with care;
Miss Darla, Jenny, Jack and Bear.
Was it an illusion—
Did the Gators chop off all his hair?
Did he really save each chicken that day with a snarl and a snare?
Kara Beechler is a Creative Writing student at CWU. She resides in Spokane with her husband and daughter and finds inspiration in every aspect of her life.