It is not Christmas

Feathers moistened with the dew of the morning
are mistaken for snowflakes
by the chickens of the barn.

Three clucks mean “yes”,
and the cock crows with excitement,
and somewhere in the suburbs,
three children storm downstairs.

“Christmas has come early!”
said the postman,
his nose reddened,
as he handed out a month’s worth
of fast-food leaflets,
and gas bills.

2 thoughts on “It is not Christmas

  1. Hi-that’s great-the rhythm is really strong throughout-you can kind of see where the lines should be divided-but would love to see them on the screen to read, as that’ll make it even better.

    When writing your poem, click on ‘code’ first. This is the computer language part of things, so if you (for instance) put something in italics it would come up with code on either side-but click on ‘view’ (can’t remember if it’s called that-the one next to code!) and it’ll revert to how you’ll see it on the site.

    Hope that helps!

    Lydia

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