The Cock Crows
The cock has crow
after so many fuse of pure grains
it grows above the eagle claw, off the restless shore
picking pin in the mud
to see the cockerel grow
cock-a-doodle-doo, the cock crows
off the mother hen that cluck out
at the sight of stronger keen sighted
to her apron lies the cart
after sobbingly to the cadence of moo
ushering in babble of joy
in the midst of two
your eyes saw it through,
through the dirty, war front.
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