Thursday July 24, 2025 Tribute to Marcia Folland 1945-2025

Marcia Folland, of Greenbush, Minnesota, told us about her grandma who raised

chickens, and so inspired my poem.  

 

 

“Just  of Scientific Mind: The Chicken Coop Revisited.”

by Steven G. Reynolds

Gramma Eff was not deaf,

not dumb, nor was she blind.

She was not daft this Gramma Eff,

just of scientific mind.

She wore knee boots,

a long white coat,

goggles, special gloves,

and entered in,

a study of,

chickens, and their loves.

“Chickens, and their loves?” you ask,

incredulously, with one raised brow,

as if of what she studied hence

made a mockery of you now.

Gramma kept her chickens clean

and although you might think it mean

she washed their feet, their beak, their bod

--the neighbors thought it very odd.

That no one out should enter in

Gramma’s little chicken pen

For Gramma too, removed her clothes

her boots, her coat, her goggles--those

gloves, that Gramma always wore

whenever she opened that very door

of all her chicken coops there we’ve learned

strangers there, their presence spurned

Gramma found these chickens smart,

they all liked color, music, art.

Gramma learned their innate needs

went far beyond mere chicken feed.

Gramma and her chickens, thus

studied Latin, Picasso, chicken lust.

While roosters with their reddened combs

strutted about, salaciously roamed.

“It’s deeper than that,” these chickens knew

their lives had secret meaning

There was more to life than pecking grit,

poetry--was their leaning.

Sunlight streams past five silent beaks.

as Gramma reads them poems by Keats,

Closed red eyes and rhythmic breasts,

quiet now pervades their rest. 

 

Shhhh.

A drawn out cluck is hardly heard

from this dark room from these dark birds

The hens all chant after mash sedation

during their chicken coop meditation.   

Tell all the world, think not the least,

your Gramma Eff could talk to beasts.

From any point north, south, east, or west

Gramma Eff was the first ‘eggstentialist.’