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.
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AuthorCreative enthusiast, gregarious naturalist, opinionated activist, RYT 200. Amy Kay Czechowicz completed a poetry challenge for 2018 and 2020 by posting an original poem daily to this blog. She writes here occasionally to drop nuggets of wisdom she picks up along her way. You can read her poems and posts by clicking and exploring below! Search Poems
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