The ill-begotten dawn,
that time the rooster failed
to call up the sun.
He must have slept and dreamed
a man's dream.
Hoping he'd mate a hen,
Hoping his offspring
might be strong
And not cracked
and not scrambled
in a yellow-frying mess
Like the sun
he tries to call up.
2 comments:
Clever parallel images! I liked it!
I like this, Myron. And can I just tell you that I read the word "rooster" and immediately thought of "No One Writes to the Colonel"? I smiled. :)
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