Poem #66: Barnyard Crime Scene
I'll never forget the morning I learned about the nefarious ways of weasels. I had finished milking cows and was happily making my way to the chicken coup with their feed. I opened the door to deliver breakfast and gather eggs and what met my eyes will be burned in my memory forever. Weasels decapitate and suck the blood from chickens. It's a thing. Look it up. Or don't. Read the poem, you'll get it.
Leave a Reply.
Creative enthusiast, gregarious naturalist, opinionated humanist, MBA, RYT 200. Amy Kay Czechowicz completed a poetry challenge for 2018 and 2020 by posting an original poem daily to this blog. She's started a Patreon for 2023 where you can find her more recent work!