A Dark Poem to Teach Children to Count Their Chickens

We agreed to chicksit for ten pullets.

Sweet girls, beautiful, and cheerful.

One, two, three, four,

Five, six, seven, eight,

Nine, ten! 

Well counted.

We had ten pullets until a bobcat visited.

He jumped over our Fort Knox fence. We know because he left footprints, and feathers.

Merry Christmas Eve.

We had nine pullets until a hawk visited. We know because I saw the hawk fly off from just around the water catchment container. And there was the chicken’s headless body.

Happy End of 2024.

We have eight pullets now. The wind howls and buffets them in their third rendition of a coop. 

Every night, we count them.