There is a chicken on my head.
I keep absolutely still.
If I had a phobia
This would be the right time to sweat.

But I don't.
I love chickens.
I love the smell of chickens
And this one I suspect will not disrespect

Her perch of impudence
Upon which she flew
To be above all others.
She queens it over the whole flock!

Keeping her beautiful balance,
She feels like a subtle scalp massage,
Like a winged, brief visitation of a prayer.
And as I let more barley trickle down

She flutters back to ground to take her share
And I am strangely privileged,
Humbled and satisfied
To have been sat upon by this proud hen.

Clive Donovan devotes himself full-time to poetry and has published in a wide variety of magazines including Agenda, Acumen, Prole, Erbacce, Salzburg Review and Message in a bottle. He lives in the creative atmosphere of Totnes in Devon, England, often walking along the River Dart for inspiration. He has yet to make a first collection.