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Cockcrows
Warningly echoing off the walls
Cockcrows cut through the early morning moments.
Wavering between the many stubborn walls, the vulgar sounds of an awakening juggernaut, the sights of a paralyzing concrete desert. They holler through the urban canyons and around their various corners.
Recounting stories of times when empty space was still the roosters to claim. When they joyfully fluttered around and fought each other in their own grace and style.
Today, their early daylight tales are barely discernable. The cockcrows have been dimmed by metropolis noises so that its tenants no longer gather their songs the way they used to. Many too preoccupied with the insane daily hustle and bustle — with nature’s inherent sounds, slowly but inevitably fading away.
Like affidavits of olden days, they seem to scold us humans, those cockerels, with their bizarre yet rare morning clamors. “Look, we still exist,” they come to patiently hum. “Why don’t you guys care no more?” While the urban roosters beg for nothing, they somehow direct the city people to tune into their plight.
Because their territory has become exceedingly scanty. Inhuman, one may say. In any case, “inanimal.” The breadcrumbs on the ground have long since ceased to be from the most pristine of grains. Instead, they run through…
