FOWLISH GODDESS

FOWLISH GODDESS

The minute I step from the car
they come running from all directions.
Such ridiculous creatures gather round
as if to worship at my feet.
They cock their heads and gaze at me
expectantly with their fowlish red eyes,
snuggle closer, as if I had all the answers.
If I walk down the road to get the mail
while clucking their one-note song,
they will come gallivanting from all directions,
dangerously listing from side to side
like drunken sailors with their first steps on dry land,
a mad feathered staggering parade of floozies.
I am the goose girl from the fairytales.
I am the oracle, the one who scatters crumbs.
But there is no sure way to tell them
that even goddesses must come home to roost.

4/11/20

I guess this could be a moment poem, April 5 PaD prompt. But really I just lifted it from my Facebook comments