In the night a rooster crowed
it wasn’t his time to call.
perhaps an unsprung spring sprung
spacing his cogs askew,
setting his bell a-ringing,
mis-reckoning his cue.
He loosed upon the Land of Nod
his screeching “cock-a-doodle-do”.

The community awoke, confused to see
it wasn’t yet time to rise,
not full awake they rubbed their sleepy eyes.
“What crazed rooster is this waking us
before it’s time?”
Rankled, they snuggled in bed too
tired to even surmise.

No more crowing was made that night
and then came the morn.
A comical sight, feathers ruffled,
upside down on the clothes line,
feet tied,
a peg clipping shut his beak,
the rooster blinked his beady eye
with humility of the meek.

02/01/2002

Posted on 02/01/2002
Copyright © 2024 Audrey M Scott