Grabbing those Golden Stars

Reaching in was always the problem.

Courage rested between beak

and slender arm. That hen never

wanted me to take what was hers,

and she'd defend the laying box

she believed to protect fantasy

chicks she saw in her beady eyes.

But I was an enthusiastic adversary

knowing new shoes for school

depended on the eggs my mother

sold in town. Reaching in hands

learn survival and acquisition

on the way to caregiving,

and the displacement of bias.