Sometimes it takes a dustbath to come clean.
The ebb of the everyday, to experience wonder.
Sometimes it takes a lowdown roll in sad to properly process all that gratitude.
Dust buddies offer silent companionship
Necks ringed by feathers like tongues of flame.
They recharge under pure solar power.
A moment without the rush and hubbub
The hens are a sorority of cycles
A ritual of ovulation and outcry!
So am I.