3 Poems to the Rooster

EVERY FREAKING MORNING

Songbirds wake twilight,

delayed in obviousness

the rooster cackles.

The gentle kiss on the eyes

of morning, a throated cough.

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EXCEPT MONDAY MORNING

Alarmed fuzzing phone,

wet dirty waves drizzle down,

heed, the absent crow.

Maliced – am I at fault?

the throne of morning, quiet.

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WHEN I THOUGHT THE ROOSTER DIED

Oh, jubilation!

behind soft shells of eyelids

trumpeting erupts,

The honcho belts out war cries,

revolt! Day rattles the gates!