To Our Beloved Hen Upon Her Passing

For Pong.
24 April 2017 - 1 March 2021

We send you gently into that Great Beyond.
May you always be the first one through the gate into the garden,
    and may there still be tender greens.
May you beat your sisters to the roaches and grasshoppers,
    and outrun them long enough to savor the crunch.
May your beak always be sharp.
May your claws be strong.
May your tail always be held high.
May you molt early--not suffer a bare neck through the long,
   harsh nights of December.
May you find moist dirt to bathe in.
May your skies be wide and sunny, but free from hawks.
May your yard be free of cats and dogs, skunks and raccoons.
May you not know fear or pain.
May your spot in the pecking order be near the top
    and uncontested.
May you be loved and admired in the Beyond, half
    as ardently as you were here
    under our scruffy, dwarf apple tree.
May you not be picked up and held
    if you don't want to be.
May you not forget us, your old flock.
And may you come rushing to greet us
    when it is our time.