Feathered Backyard Pets
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It’s hard when pets are companion to you
With chard they would be dinner for others
My yard is playpen for my feathered few
Regarded as farmyard to another
When one of my chicks has met her demise
The run no longer safe for happy hens
When fun has turned to tears escaping eyes
I’m done tamping the grave, sad once again
When wings and legs are menu selections
Crying over chickens is frowned upon
A thing to save for fuzzy affection
A sting allowed only when pets are gone
Adored as much as bowwow and meow
Therefore deserving of waterworks now.
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(A Beymorlin Sonnet)
A Picture and a Poem 