A Chicken's Crow

Thrice you denied, twice were promised, once accepted.

On a blustery eve as thorny leaves of a tree do blow
Does, round the fire, the fateful ire of a chicken-crow
Echo through the square.
And there - jolly!-
You lose the game of Blind-Man's-Bluff
By winning Hide-and-Seek,
Finding IT, so meek...

You played by ear and broke the rules of what seemed
Yet a game for noble fools.
A sincere jester, knocked on the door
To find who was there -
On a windy, cool night in the flame-lit square
Who wondered why the chicken crossed the road.

...by God! for Pete, good sir, 'tis grand! -
You've found the answer, clasped your hands in irony understood...
Unease.
Pensive, lost with a map,
Though yesterday you trod those same steps, you now bear a load
Of doubt insecure - you witnessed the chicken cross the road,
And - in an instant - the humor ceased.

Now, standing - shivering - on the hill o'er which the bloody wind blows
From a distant garden, hearing a chicken crow,
The ashes from two nights' previous fires
A smoldering heap, the noble game's pyres;
You stare - your only companions a simple rock and a wonder in mind:

How will you cross to the other side?