• Black Pellet Chick

    Sunlight bright,the air brisk,snow blanketsthe dead, frozen ground. I shuffle through the gateway ofAmerica’s famous farm store.My love goes one way,I dodder the other. There,in the middle aisle,two galvanizedwater troughs,filled with colorful pullet chicks.Heat lamps warmingtheir tiny bodies. It is there,Little baby,your fragile body coveredwith fluffy black feathers, you lay,gasping for air. Your trough mates,peck ...