Roosters - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
I have, myself, on some occasions, met a Cock
who seemed a bit more self-assured and proud as such.
The usual talk was 'well, you know this matter Doc',
then to be followed by that small and urgent touch
that speaks of innate kinesthetics among men.
They will, in fact they must have tactile re-connect,
it seems they count inside up to the number ten
when a strong signal makes their muscles genuflect,
I say, my processor relies on genuine rays,
the human touch without a purpose strikes me strange,
yet I am cognizant that there are curious ways
to shoot the breeze in intellectual exchange.
I do prefer though, it must be presented here
as fitting company no paupers and no kings.
Inside the mirror I can always see my peer
and, at an angle it will give my ego wings.
So let me close by being timid, and I trust
that there are humans who would never realise
that many roosters who will crow because they must
are quite convinced they cause the sun itself to rise.
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