He was halfway to the outhouse
When it caught him by surprise
Out of the bushes, it suddenly pounced
It had murder in its beady eyes
“Oh! No! What am I gonna do?”
As he rushed through the door
The rooster paced back and forth
Daring him to come out for more
He took care of his business
Then pondered about his plight
He couldn’t stay there forever
Not in an outhouse overnight
Beside the door, he saw a stick
It was hefty, just the right size
Out the door, he boldly went
For his assailant had a surprise
At him, it suddenly charged
Figuring that havoc it would wreak
On his back, it would land
Flogging, his hair would tweak
But he was ready, waiting for it
He launched a desperate swing
Connecting, he heard a loud crack
From that flopping, disoriented thing
He dropped the stick and ran off
And into the house, he went
The rooster slowly got to his feet
Wobbled, teetered, its neck was bent
No more did it wait in ambush
It could hardly stand on its feet
No longer able to do rooster duties
It became a Sunday dinner meat
Tuesday, June 21, 2022