For the birds

Sun streams through my hair,

the greens and blues of summer

with the gentle breeze lift my spirit

Then I see it. Deep, beady eyes

strutting with ignorant cockiness,

one pale, wrinkled foot steps towards me

A scream escapes me, my hands fly up,

my heart beats a furious dance in my chest,

my conciousness a stream of profanities

and should haves

A whirl of tanned legs and curly hair,

loud clucking and fanning skirts,

the winged demon is trapped,

the coop is locked.

I can still feel the beady eyes,

but revenge will be mine:

On the menu:

Chicken florentine