Cock-crow

Here’s another of my poems from the retreat last autumn. This one has a Maundy Thursday/Good Friday theme.

Cock Crow

When it came down to it, all the good intentions
revealed themselves to be the very sort
with which the Road to Hell is paved.
Brave words, spoken with honest intent in an awkward moment
turn out to have been no more than bravado,
a fantasy that could not last the night.
A question from a servant-girl exposes
cracks and defects in the tough fa├žade,
the bluster shown for what it was -
all talk and no walk.
As the rooster crows and sleepers stir
there is no brazier warm enough to keep at bay
the cold light of this dawning day.