1 October 2021
Lilith and I failed to scare a chicken beside the sidewalk. It was young, but bigger than a chick; it didn’t move on its large greenish feet. Its back feathers were down, eyes closed. Was that blood on its throat, or simply a streak of red? Lilith was curious, but not eager. When finally I poked the chicken gently, its head turned, but nothing else stirred. A rooster crowed nearby. After we walked down the hill a few steps, I turned to look, and the chicken was still there. Dying on a Friday morning on a patch of brown dirt in the humid air.
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