The Rooster’s Wattle
I bring in the rooster
on this cold winter night,
on seeing that his proud wattle
is withering from frostbite.
When I carry him back outside
to his women in waiting,
this otherwise boisterous bird
rests in my arms without complaining.
Though now his dapper is a bit bland
he still struts with a glorious stand
among his gals in the morning sun
calling them for food and a little fun.