Chris Tusa

The Sky is Falling

The sky is falling.
And Henny Penny is nowhere to be found.

There is no bright blue cartoon sky,
no pop-up green grass.

Only a grey horizon with a single black cloud
drifting like a hole in the sky.

Minutes later, I watch rain disappear from the radar,
watch the sun blink through the clouds.

And I feel like some dumb chicken,
panic knocking against my purple chicken heart,

the seed of some silly fear
planted deep in my tiny bird brain.

Chris Tusa

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