In the Lounge
of the old peopleıs home, theyıve placed
an incubator. Under its lamp a dozen eggs
have so far hatched ten chicks, colours
various, two eggs still to crack...
The old folk cluck over them
like children with new pets.
The visiting therapy dog glances
between chicks and old people,
used to being centre of attention.
Some remember him, those with memories.
Others recall dogs they once had.
In everyone revives the joy
of newly hatched chicks. So warm
the incubator, warm the old folksı lounge.
So frail the shells, the newborns, the old.
So sturdy the broadchested dog -
he's in his prime - for yet a little time.
Max Richards
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