A clever cat named Quinn is wont to walk -
With clothes and charms quite bold through dauntless speech;
His sense about the folk that gladly talk
Is joined by class and many skills to teach.
In Rancho Duna – paired with Walt his mate,
His favorite town’s arranged in shops and homes.
As trees and lakes in desert sands await
For him, he thinks of folk and gladly roams.
Though living with his peers of fur and paw
Is not without its conflicts or its strife,
The chatty, cagey fowl severely draw
His ire - which then disturbs his peaceful life.
Inside their flock exists a certain bird -
A hen named Claire with quite a raucous call;
She’s drowned out all dissenting, chicken words -
From in the group, or anywhere at all.
But though this flock exists a leader hen -
A fuller figured, foremost bird of brown,
Her domineering, forceful role would then
Be challenged by her fellow flock in town.
“Her baking leaves quite much in skill to be
Desired” a younger Joyce - a hen of white
With smugness whispers in her group of three;
Her gossip is a quite unseemly sight.
“She doesn’t mend or stitch her family’s clothes –
In spite of what she’s truly wont to do”
Denise with force exclaims. Her figure’s shows
Her blackened plumes – and shortness in her crew.
“That might be so my dear but this she’ll not
Acknowledge” Maude an older hen of grey
Replies. ”I think concerning her we ought
To give her yet another chance today.”
“You do no favors to your friend, your flock
Or to this town” the feline Quinn declares.
“And at some, you’ll surely need to talk
About the scorn she hides in her affairs.
The youngest hen named Joyce replies “What do
You know of it? She is renown inside
Our village from prestige she did accrue.”
The hens did nod at what they claimed they knew.
“Don’t say I did not warn you” quips the cat
And waves his paw while walking towards the street.
The group of hens quite cross right where they sat –
Still full of anger’s strong and latent heat.
The days did pass as passive, loyal hens
Did follow right behind their leader fowl.
While doing chores or crafting there as friends,
They made their gossip vocal on the prowl.
These daily deals maintained through passing time -
Until on quite a fateful day their chief
Was absent from their meal in midday’s prime;
The nosy hens found Claire through searching's grief.
They saw with Claire a lady duck of white,
To their dismay - outside her home to make
Some lively chat; This gave them all a fright -
And made their ruffled, chicken feathers shake.
“They’ll wait for me inside the cottage of
That aging crone” the mother hen intones.
“They have not much to do and surely love
Me more than talking to a pile of bones.
“They cannot measure up to all the style
You bring – as both your garments and my skill
With cloth attests” she blusters with a smile
And joins the hen in laughter from her bill.
Dejected then, the flock of hens retreat
To sit inside the cottage as they wait.
Their mother hen brings paltry food to eat
But still receives a most appealing plate.
While plating all the food with eager aid
From younger birds, a rapping on the door
Is heard – the aging Maude soon finds is made
With knocking by the feline from before.
“What brings you here, young sir?” the aging hen
Inquires. “I asked for him to meet us here”
The raven feathered hen replies, and then
She motions him towards a chair that’s clear.
As Quinn examines Claire the mother hen,
He gives her quite a snarky, puckish grin.
While squirming in her chosen seat is when
She then decides to raise her beak and chin.
With angered speech, Claire yells, “Is what you bear
Your words to say to me?” while crossing both
Her arms in anger - as she tries to scare
The cat with all her puffing chest’s new growth.
“You’ve said far more than I would need to say”
The clever Quinn replies. “The hens that sit
Around you only lean upon your sway;
There’s no respect, but too much fear to quit.”
“You know, I am a pillar of this town!”
She says with quite a haughty, pompous look.
“My strong, enduring mark and great renown
Can never, ever be in truth mistook.”
“Well, if you are our village pillar then
It’s built on shaky ground” the feline speaks.
“You lean upon the gracious things each hen
provides – withholding much from them for weeks."
“Your mien is overstayed” Denise proclaims
“Inside this house are only friendly birds;
Your haughty, vain, deceitful words and claims
Are shown through bold and truthful feline words.”
So, like a bratty, angry teenage fowl,
The jilted bird – no more a mother hen,
Is forced to leave and makes an bitter scowl
Upon her face; she’ll never come again.
And as the day grows full, the hens adore
Delicious tea and treats that Quinn provides;
The feline’s lovely mood gives even more
To them than all the candid speech he guides.
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