A Rooster's Morning Crow (COCKLE-DOODLE-DOO!)

Agitation sets in.


Rays of sunshine assault the roost.

Orange beams awaken the cock.

Obnoxious is my neighboring early bird.

Seriously, who crows at the early clock?

Torment follows the unholy caw.

Egotistical is his ritualistic squawk.

Reasonable roosters do not play these silly games.

Sadly, I can’t help but jealously gawk.


Maturity and meaning erupt from his performance.

Organization and optimism radiate from his cry.

Responsibility and discipline challenge my self-esteem.

Nerveless and confident, he pierces the sky.

Inwardly, I realise that’s who I aspire to be.

Nervously, I let out a sigh.

Gradually, I make a judgement call:




Resolve sets in.

Only I can choose.

What do I have to lose? ...Nothing.

This poem is about: 


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