Free-Range Fantasy [sonnet]

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I’m wondering if some change in DNA
(the only explanation I can find)
has spawned so many flaky chicks today
by which most roosters now feel undermined.
It’s getting hard to find a stable cluck
in any modern trendy free-range brood.
Plus many don’t make love but only fuck —
off-putting poultry full of attitude.
But yet, I have this little fantasy
(which friends have said is futile and absurd)
that somewhere there’s a clutch (not KFC!)
wherein one finds a true Arcadian bird.
I scratch the earth — not just to find some grains
but chickens without flakes stuffed in their brains.

© Alan Morrison, 2014

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