There's a Chicken in My Window

There's a chicken in my window.
I swear, it's right up there.

I don't know what it's doing.
But then, you don't really care.

I'd take a picture of it,
if I thought the shot would take.

'Cause I know you don't believe me.
You think it's some mistake.

But, she's really up there.
Perched up on the sill.

She staring in that window,
Scratching the screen with her bill.

I know that chicks have beaks not bills
But beaks just didn't rhyme.

I'd have thought some more about it
Y'know, come up with somethin' better if I'd had the time.

Believe me or not, but I'd have to say
That chicken in the window's quite a funny sight.

I do believe she's closed her eyes.
Yep, she's tucked in for the night.



Yessiree, Bob. Quality entertainment, indeed. I suppose I could share some knitting with you, but it'd just be more shots of the same stuff I've been showing. And, golly gosh gee willikers, isn't pathetic poetry so much more fun.

And, for those of you wondering, yes, there really is a chicken in my window. At 9pm. She's perched up there, squished up against the screen. At first, I thought she was stuck, but she appears to be up there intentionally. I guess she's either after the light that's in the kitchen, or she's feeling safe this close to the house (because she really couldn't get any closer).

Weirdness.