After writing in serious veins lately about beauty and battles, the most important number in the world, and our wrong-headed war in Afghanistan, I”m just breathing today. Enjoying simple pleasures, like a cup of excellent coffee (direct trade gets even better wages to the coffee farmers than fair trade, I understand). Portland Oregon, where I live, is almost religious about good coffee, hence the tongue in cheek haiku below. [Just for the record, I happily worship in a real church.]
The Java Worshippers
Dawn spawns seekers of
Caffeine-infused visions. Hark!
They speak in bright tongues.
____________________________
And this haiku is in honor of my four young chickens: Cleopatra, Lolita, Sangria and Dawn, who are collectively now laying 20 eggs a week and thereby helping me feel more food-secure. Moreover, my chickens entertain me with their antics when I let them out to roam the garden. In case you’re wondering why I have four chickens when Portland only allows three, well, attrition is always a possibility. And you know I have trouble coloring inside the lines.
Clucking Around
Glossy sheen, harsh squawks.
Alert, fecund faces, their
Strut chock-full of life.
photos courtesy of Ineedcoffee/coffee hero and neighborhood notes pdx, respectively.
Related Posts:
- Chickens Bring People Together
- Our Chickens’ First Eggs And My Inner Farmer
- High-Joy, No-Cost Fun: Haiku
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