Ode to Rooster

He came to our yard scrawny, weak, and mangy looking last summer and could barely croak out a cock-a-doodle-doo.

Kept sayin', "the KI-yotes'll get 'im, won't last long".
Somehow he found various places to "roost" and rest.

I complained about him crowing at all times inappropriate…
I complained about all the peanut shells he left behind…
I complained about the small poop piles on the deck and sidewalk…
But he lasted through the winter..even started developing some plumpness around the breast area…his color became a beautiful varigated tone of white-on-gold, his rear tail
feathers became tall and sure.

Then one day last week…I slept in. The alarm actually woke me.
I realized…no crowing. No scratching at the door. Nothing but silence outside.
That night when I got home from work, I took a mag-lite and searched around the perimeter of our property, the neighbors, anywhere looking for signs.
Nothing. No feathers. Nothing.

I miss the dang crowing. I live in the country after all! There should always be a rooster crowing somewhere right? The peanut shells have blown away with the spring wind.
The poop piles have washed away with recent storms.
And I now rely on my alarm clock to wake me up in the morning.