The Feeding Poem by Alexander Beebe

The backyard trees a host to many, feathered friends who feed on plenty.
A young child’s eyes and ears in tune with what’s expected, how she yearns.
The ritual she knows too well, it’s her job to calm the swell.
A task that any one could do, but she and Rooster rule this roost.

Hand in hand they take a walk, to fill her bucket - have a talk.
A time that’s only meant for them, her mom and Gigi left to grin.
Many stops they do make around the pasture through the gate.
The feeding places hang near by from Live Oak branches way up high.

Her little bucket in her grasp, filled with seed to feed the mass.
Her feathered friends are gathered round, some up high some on the ground.
Her arms out stretched, she gets a lift, she pours the seed, the tables set.
Her Rooster tells her job well done, she grins at him-they move on.

Hand in hand they walk the grounds, giggling, laughing clowning around.
Eventually the seed is spread, it’s time for chickens-they too are fed.
Eggs are gathered, hens are chased, a perfect start to a perfect day.

A time that neither will forget, their bond is close; their love is set.
No known medicine exists, that takes the place of time well spent.
The years ahead may see less seed, as youth will grow, so do their needs.
It matters not, their hearts well fed, with seeds of love that stand the test.