The night was coming very fast; <br />It reached the gate as I ran past. <br /> <br /> <br />The pigeons had gone to the tower of the church <br />And all the hens were on their perch, <br /> <br /> <br />Up in the barn, and I thought I heard <br />A piece of a little purring word. <br /> <br /> <br />I stopped inside, waiting and staying, <br />To try to hear what the hens were saying. <br /> <br /> <br />They were asking something, that was plain, <br />Asking it over and over again. <br /> <br />One of them moved and turned around, <br />Her feathers made a ruffled sound, <br />A ruffled sound, like a bushful of birds, <br />And she said her little asking words. <br />She pushed her head close into her wing, <br />But nothing answered anything.<br /><br />Elizabeth Madox Roberts<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-hens-2/
