Peanut, the Chicken

In southeastern light, where she began,  

A almost-dud egg, hushed in her shell,  

A pipping whisper cut through the calm,  

And life emerged, frail yet determined.  

For years she wandered in spirit's warmth,  

An indoor pet, in a world of soft sighs,  

To scratch at the earth and nibble on dreams,  

Peanut, a beacon of everyday grace.  

At twenty springs, with feathers like dusk,  

Her legacy of eggs laid a fertile ground,  

Grand chicks now flutter, unseen past echoes,  

Nature's quiet miracle in her yard.  

Time, like a gentle hand, eases the heart,  

In her meandering steps, wisdom takes form,  

Each cluck a testament to love's slow dance,  

And life’s sweet cadence, tender and true.  

So let the seasons weave their tapestry,  

As generations laugh under the same sky,  

For Peanut, the oldest, a life richly lived,  

In the quiet of a backyard, sings the tale.