This is something that kept clunking around in my head last night. The no sleep and visions of chicken coops is real, the plantaside is not. No animals or plants were harmed in the writing of this poem. The only thing harmed is my sleep-o-meter which is completely empty after exactly no sleep last night. For reference we recently aquired five chicks and five ducklings.

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Visions of Chicken Coops

Twas the wee hours of morning, and all thought the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a grouse.

The chicks were all snuggled, asleep in their brooder

While the ducklings beside them, couldn't be cuter.

Alas, I was awake, a-toss in my bed

While visions of chicken coops danced through my head.

My husband beside me was out like a light

But I was yet doomed to no sleep on that night.

For from downstairs below arose such a clatter;

I flew from bed to see what was the matter.

Down stairs, through the kitchen I swiftly did dash

To find the dread source of so crazy a crash.

The wind at my back and my heart like a drum

I threw open the door to see what had been done.

But what to my dazed eyes then should appear

But chicks all aflutter, though still in good cheer.

The heat lamps still hung from their polls with great care

Assured that these babies would feel no night air.

I did a quick count to see who was missing

And counted five ducks their water a-swishing

One Tweedy, one Feathers, one Gertrude Mc. Fuzz

One Ronen, one Sogun, all five were abuzz.

I turned my attention to look for to the chicks,

Could this possibly be a just a tired minds tricks?

No sooner I looked then I spied one amiss,

The brazen red chick, quite a fiery young miss.

She'd flown from the tote, up one side and over

And was proving to be a bit of a rover.

I snatched her up quick and returned her with care

Then stood in a stupor and just had to stare.

The plant on the bookshelf had been there before

But the leafy presence was seen there no more.

I looked to the ground and my heart to did flop

For my husband's prized flower had taken a drop.

I picked up the pices of pot from the dirt

And tucked them gently, safe into my shirt.

I found a container and some potting soil too

And soon the plant was repotted, good a new.

A lid did I fashion to keep the chicks in;

They shouldn't escape anymore from that bin.

Then cleaning the mess from the carpet with care

I tuned and I left not a noise did I dare.

So soft and so swift I crept back to my room

But no sleep it seems was to be this nights doom.

For just as I slipped neth the cover with sighs

I heard from my child's room some soft mourning cries.

Once more did I crawl from my bed with great dread

Come the early morn rays I'd be worse off than dead.