Rooster

decrative

Poetry tops the list of things I love. I’ve never had a chance to study it as an art form. The college I went to didn’t have much use for poetry. Nobody ever got rich from writing. I can make the statement they didn’t place much value on the written word as a means of expression. In my time there, only one creative writing class was offered every four years because it was a requirement for middle school teachers. I felt sorry for my professor. It was his last year before retirement. All my classmates did was complain. I decided to devote 2021 to writing different styles of poetry. Therefore, in February, I plan to write sonnets. I’ve titled this one Rooster.

Rooster

Some may say he is old and past his prime

The fate of an aging Rooster is the stalk pot.

I say he might not be a chicken in his springtime

But he can still crow in the morning like he aught

His feathers might not be as glossy

As they once were a long time ago

He can be rather cheap and bossy

But that’s something we all know

He can strut and sway with the best of them

Out in the barnyard bright and early

Pretending his plumage is a royal diadem

Head cocked with an attitude turned surly

These are the strange behaviors all old roosters do

Still a grumpy Roosters isn’t fit to be tossed into a stew

Who is Molly Shea?

Molly Shea is an accomplished fictional short story writer from Indiana who writes short stories and novels about a fictional town called Tecumseh.  To read more of her short stories and adventures, click here.

Be sure to follow Molly on Twitter!

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Published by henhouselady

I am the author of Saving the Hen House. I didn't know when I started it would turn into a series. I love to ride motorcycles, the blues, my family, and going on adventures. This old hen rocks.

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