by Laween Ismaail
Once I had a chicken coop,
In it, a young man.
The young man would crouch down to stoop—
Of the chickens, he was a fan.
I recall this man was particularly fond,
Dressing himself up supreme.
He was the ruler of the chickens
And the devil for the cats,
Ominous.
Yet serene.
For this young man stood guard for the chickens—
His broom was held up high.
He’d eye the roaming cats,
And thwack them in their thighs!
That is, if they snagged a chick,
Or dared to enter his domain.
He stood guard for the chickens—
There, he remained.
His ghost still stands, a young air about the yard,
Though the oldness of the man
Has taken him afar.
He remembers the chickens fondly,
The days where he was more—
He looks at the days to come
And wonders if chickens are in store.
Laween Ismaail is a high school senior with a long-held love for chickens. He had a chicken coop when he was little, learned about the food aspects of chickens as he grew up, and aims to raise chickens in the future—once he has free land of his own.