Meg is wandering again

in smaller and smaller circles

driving us round the bend.

What is she thinking?

She worries the others.


A few days later

when we let her out she begins

circling again until

she huddles beneath the bird bath

and will not move.


We shift her.

She crawls under a bush

where she’s hard to reach.

The cat who often bothers the chooks

leaves her alone.


That night it rains and rains.

In the morning she’s bedraggled.


I lift her into the earth.

There isn’t much of her.

The chooks settle after that.

So do we.

4 thoughts on “Meg

  1. When things go wrong, there are signs, but we can’t always understand the meaning of the signs, or even realise they are signs of anything important. And even if one does realise the signs are important, not everything requires action …

    Life and death are like that …

    Liked by 1 person

  2. it saddens me that this should be so, but there it is; maybe it’s because their difference is perceived as being some sort of threat or rejection of our values or something we don’t want to thiink about?


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