Broody Hen, by Debi Swim

Broody Hen
by Debi Swim

I sit before my computer keying thoughts.
They came smooth and swift, a bird soaring,
once. Now they perch on a limb, refusing
even to sing. I pretend this bird is nesting,
warming eggs and I wait for them to hatch.

How long does it take? Days? Weeks? Months?
I wait and wait like a broody hen. Impatient.
Anxious. Despairing at the lifelessness.
But, still I sit and wait hoping for the day
when something new comes into the world.
I wait for the sounds of breaking free.

Note: Written in response to Red Wolf Poems, Prompt 309.

Debi Swim is a wife, mother, grandmother and persistent WV poet.

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