Scissors in one hand, hen in the other, a couple of quick snips and the wing tips swirl to the ground. Keeps ‘em from ‘flying the coop’, the farmer says. He releases the hen. She takes a moment to regain her balance, then runs to the opposite side of the pen where she flaps and clucks her objections. Isn’t it rather cruel to clip their wings, I wonder? Nah, the farmer says. It doesn’t hurt them, and ‘sides, if they don’t like it, they can leave. The farmer chuckles at the irony of his own joke and reaches for another hen.
boundless sky beckons
anticipation takes flight
dVerse Haibun Monday — Complexity of Freedom