in a barn in a hole there slept a golden rooster

in a barn in a hole there slept a golden rooster
with a silver twig in its beak and a regal scarlet comb.
it dreamt of speaking to bees. in a cozy rafter, with sunbeams-
nudging fluffy feathers in the copse of avian slumber
as the afternoon solidified the breeze tunneling through summer
like a wind weasel on fire twirling a monocle.
for lens flare so random
it’s god.