“Dreams of My Feather”

Dawn crows; can’t find the pluck to cluck / curse my fowl luck / the coop, not flown / a coup, not known / against the man who takes the eggs / against this roost, the endless days / you see a paltry portly poultry / flightless wing, head-bobs jolty / But strong, my beak, not bleak or meek / I may be chicken but I’m three-toe kicken’ / down this cage to move up in the world.

(Be careful what you wish for, guys)