The ornate cockerel atop
The neighboring shingles was bent
As from the clouded firmament
The Boreal assault did lop
The rooster's proud, but worthless crest
From its preened peak, where it endured
For twenty years unadultered
Until lain down in this tempest.
I watched from far within my post
As the adjoining property
Was swelled with sirens, then made free
From the coarse cock that had been host
To things I could not comprehend
In such young age, but now abhor.
To this I also now am sure:
The storm that day served both to rend
The vanity from his facade
And from his name the false respect
That he had almost kept erect -
If only all that were so flawed
Could be delivered justice.
June 1-2
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