Monday 28 August 2017

Roosters

Apr 12, 2016

Roosters, once they abounded
in the morning mist.
With the gold spilling on the horizon,
at least one of them would wake me up,
like the truth of God.
Its trilling note would call my name thrice in the woods.
Now they are all gone,
sunk in the enormous history of my little old town.
Their clear annunciation of truth
echoed an affirmation sung in the first ray of the early sun.
Now they are gone; all gone out of the way.
There is none that understands what they said.
Words, like the rooster's call, are said to those who understand

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