I See Those Hens As They Flutter And Fly

My grandmother kept hens.
And her hens loved her.
They followed
wherever she went
even into her kitchen.

Then, hands on hips
and quite half hearted
she would shoo them
towards the door.

And clear and still
in my mind's eye
I see those hens as
they flutter and fly
to the playful tilt
of her apron.

by Sean Joyce

Comments (2)

I love portrait poems Sean. This is such a perfect minature. The manner in which the emotions are captured by the use of 'shoo' is craftsmanship at its best.
Sean this poem is fantastic i love it good write