"Every morning the rooster crows…"
(Now hang-on-a-minute – that’s not how it goes!)
Every morning when the rooster should crow,
(If we had one, that is, and I ought to know),
At the first glimpse of sun (or artificial light
Streaming from my window bright)
A Loud-mouthed Frog in the drainpipe, sings;
It’s voice in haunting echo rings
Up, up the drain-pipe (or is it down?)
He (she?) sings a song to wake the town.
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‘Though lacking the rooster’s plumage rare—
Bold colours of feathers, suffused with hue
The early-morning voice is there:
With a ‘croak-croak-croak’…
Not a ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’!
Not sunrise-silhouetted on a distant fence
But in a gloomy drainpipe,
Hidden from my vision
This songster chants his rousing call—
Complete with a moral,
If I stop to listen.
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"Just as Apostle Peter was shocked to reality
At the prophesied rooster’s cry,
The ‘croak-croak-croak’ from the unseen throat
Is a wake-up shock to reality’s call
Of the near-coming judgement to face us all."
Time to get up and confess our denial,
To be reconciled, start life anew—
By confession bold and honesty rare;
By penitence true and submission too,
And acceptance of forgiveness not withheld
(A gift freely offered, pre-paid by His blood)
To restore our relationship with a loving God
Who cares enough to preach to me
Through a noisy sun-up Frog.
©13 Feb 2008 Lionel Hartley
