Day 662 April 25, 2022

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Joy

One chicken is Houdini, 
always breaking free, 
turning the leaves by the asparagus patch, 
inspecting the mulch at the foot of the pear tree. 
Always the showman, 
the showgirl, 
the show lady, 
the show off, 
she comes running, 
or paces the length of fence waiting to be let back in 
so she can run to the feed can and eat like 
she has been holding her breath since morning. 
She runs with excitement 
and a little joy. 
She can’t help herself, 
or I can’t help anthropomorphizing her little dance, 
like the world is too hot to stand two feet on. 
I once possessed such joy. 
Perhaps we all did. 
Imagine returning to that joy, 
a running dancing for joy kind of joy.



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