One day
The squawking chick will grow
To be a carbon copy of its mother
Speckled hen crossing the dry grass.
One day its feathers will be more
Beautiful and consistent with
What a hen is supposed to be,
And it will grow a red comb or wattle
On its head, and its beady eye
Will know what to look for to eat.
But for now it will stick
Close to its mother for comfort
And protection and to learn
How to behave
When it is grown.
Englepip's World 