Bedraggled, she looked this morning, <br />standing at the back door <br />in her oversized feet. <br /> <br />We'd not seen her since she lost the chicks - <br />all four of them. <br />Foxes, I suppose... <br />(I guess they get hungry too) <br /> <br />Next door told us she'd grieved <br />for ages afterwards, <br />pacing up and down <br />and making hollow honking sounds. <br /> <br />Her topknot looked chewed, <br />as if the mice had been at it, <br />her dusty feathers lace-like, <br />transparent in the sun. <br /> <br />She pecked the seed I gave her <br />compulsively, <br />percussively, <br />head lifting up and down <br />like a tiny jackhammer. <br /> <br />Poor little Miss P, <br />how I longed to hold her in my arms... <br />but all I could do was to call off the dog.<br /><br />Alison Cassidy<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peacock-story-5-poor-little-miss-p/
