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September 10, 2007
Of Eagles and Chickens (a poem)
We Americans are a mix of birds,
Some soarers, others grounders;
And from their strong, enduring words,
More Eagles were among our Founders.
But different birds this domain share,
Some soaring, some just clucking;
While Eagles soar, patrol the air;
Penned Chickens wait for plucking.
Eagles have sharp, raptor eyes,
Not so in birds fear stricken;
An Eagle fights to own his skies,
Not so the hen-housed Chicken.
Feckless fowl, they placidly peck,
Flocking to their foolish fate,
Flashing blade on feathered neck,
Must they always learn too late?
That's why we use the very word
To taunt those who won't fight;
A Chicken is some fear-filled bird,
Whose fear provokes his plight.
Frightened fowl will surrender all,
Hoping for a peaceful ending,
Unmindful that their heads may fall,
Blind to bright blades descending.
But Eagles being bolder birds,
Seek our enemies in their lair,
Screaming Eagles, forgoing words,
Strike with deadly talons there.
Proud raptors who together fight
Know something Chickens never will,
Love of country and birthright,
A rara avis grounder skill.
The anti-war capons of Answer
And hysterical hens of Code Pink,
Let bird flu turn into fowl cancer,
And their pen is beginning to stink.
As they flock to the Mall in September
To disgrace and dishonor their nation
It would behoove them to remember
Watchful Eagles are on station.