Dreams of a Chicken

If a miracle has ever happened,
it’s the appearance of a rainbow.
I sometimes see it
through my chicken coop’s wired window

after the rain stops.

That giant, colourful bridge
arched all the way through the sky,
with strands of sunlight weaving through
like silken angels to catch me –

perhaps I’ve finally found a way to fly.

When it rains, I always look up:
dreaming of escaping here;
of climbing up the rainbow
all the way to the top,

where I can flap my wings and see the horizon.