Alan Peat
Napoleon’s Clutch
The wind’s lashes came mascara thickened, rattling the corrugated hen-house roof. Those birds laid clockwork eggs; eyes closed I can still see their butter-yellow yolks. That night the gale ripped their roof off, took it for a run to the low field where it rested.
They could have flown the coop, winged it all the way to the border. But instead they came to a confused halt less than a barn’s length away down the track. Some were pecking at the dirt; others just fluttered and fluffed up their wings.
home bird
same seaside town every year
for a week —
from The Bay View lounge window
a carpark full of gulls
About the Author

Alan Peat is a UK-based poet and author. He was runner-up in the 2021 British Haiku Society’s Ken and Norah Jones Haibun Award and in 2022 won a Touchstone Award for Individual Haibun. His book of collaborative ekphrastic haibun with Réka Nytrai, Barking at the Coming Rain (Alba Publishing, 2023), is available by e-mailing alanpeat@icloud.com.
Hello Alan,
This is great, you made the roof flying off the henhouse so fascinating , , it is amazing, that is the sign of a great poet right there! We had chickens too, they have their own interesting little world. Nice Tanka.
All the Best, Karina Klesko