The Hens on Christmas Morning

The hens greet me at the fence

this Christmas morning

hungry for feed, for scratch

for good cheer, fresh water.

The air is crisp and cool, the sky brilliant

blue against the bare tree branches

this quiet, sunny morning.

As others unwrap presents in a flurry

I gather the gift of eggs from the coop

and thank the black and brown creatures for their generosity.

They cluck and fuss as I nod goodbye

cradling their fragile, oval gems

in my grateful hands.