Crowing Hens Poem by Sonny Rainshine

A crowing hen,
some rustic philosophers claim,
signals some cataclysm,
some calamity,
an upheaval,
such as financial ruin
or even a death
in the family.

Surely something ominous
is rattling the bird
to make her mimic the male,
to make her
so androgynous,
so perplexed,
to step out of her sex
as though stepping off
her nocturnal roost
before dawn comes.

Perhaps any sudden
departure from the ordinary,
any unanticipated variance,
is enough to make us
reluctantly heedful
of the natural Oracles and Cassandras
whose duty is to warn us that something
is about to change.