the rooster

He’s awfully big,
flouncing around that barnyard,
red feathers plumed and a jaunty
fingered coxcomb on his head.

The melody of his crow
enchants his ear,
so he sings his refrain
into redundancy.
He looks around and hopes
all the hens hear.

His claws are thick
and shiny; his raptor’s scaled
feet feel powerful. He is sure
he could claw someone
half to death,
if he could ever find a chance.

He is the cock.
This is his barnyard.
But once he’s been
beheaded and defeathered,
his proud chicken flesh
makes a mighty tasty meal.

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