The rooster has a little color.
I have less color than the rooster.
How dizzying, to be so pale
& so spun about by “not tonight’s”
that you crow in the dark
to justify your early rising. I am
mostly the music of understanding.
That is what my skin sings when I
allow it the audience of the field
& when my calves strain without
jumping, I know there will be no crop
where I have left the seed to hide.