Land of the Chicken Kings
I found this beautiful piece of writing on the net after searching out a strange message I had on waking...
Jen on Mar 10th 2008 10:42 pm
Today on my way home from work, I stopped at an apple stand on the side of the road.
As I got out of my car, a seven year old boy stood across from me at the edge of the gravel driveway. The back of his heels brushed up against the knee high grass as he contemplated my arrival. He was dressed for summer in a pair of worn Levis, no shirt and no shoes. He looked at me with a face carved from generations of American Indian ancestors and eyes exactly the color of the hazy afternoon sky behind him, the blue a startling contrast to his dark hair that fell to his waist. After deciding that I wouldn’t be trouble, he smiled an impish grin and deftly twisted around to face the tall grass.
“I am Oak Zavala*! King of the Chickens!” he called.
His hair became a sparkling cloud of mahogany as he jumped into the air and then landed again in the grass. Chickens squawked and scattered as he ran through the field, hopping on every third step. His laughter filled the wooden apple shed as he hunted his prey.
It feels like spring.
*Not his real name. Duh.
The message I had was: "Land of the Chicken Kings"
When I read the post above...I wondered if the land of the Chicken Kings is the land where life is better lived...where simplicity and spontaneity have their own natural pertinence. I wish to enter the land of the Chicken Kings...Such a home was my home in youth...but as I traveled...the city and the demands of modern living blinded me at times...hopefully I have grown wise/young to all that now!
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