The Matriarch

nature, Personal Reflection 1 Minute

(a hen)

she is black
in the way that a green flame burns black
and in the way a night sky 
is radiant

and on her breast
flecked feathers, fringed with fawn
slip against each other
seductively

in the garden
she steps onto a brick, extends a scaly claw behind her  
and each wing downwards, tip-feathers separate 
in quivering stretch

in this way 
she conjures beauty from ungainliness;
extracting mystery from colour and grace
from function

Written for Miz Quickly’s Oct 15 Prompt “Write about a particular bird”

Published by abigfatcanofworms

We all walk in the dark. But if we hold hands, perhaps the dark won't be as scary.

Published

19 thoughts on “The Matriarch”

  1. delightful: my partner used to raise roosters and hens — I’ve written a few poems on this topic, esp one called ‘Meg’ — but the enterprise grew dispiriting after one fox attack too many 😦

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

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