and cockerels

One word is often enough
To make a crowd go wild
Like “Fire”
Or “Bomb”
Or even a vague “Danger”
Sometimes it takes two
“Behind you”
Or “Get out”
Or perhaps a simple “My god!”

Like hens and cockerels
We are often running scared
And running away
From the smallest whisper
The vaguest rumour
And the slightest possibility
Until it is clear that the fear
Was a product of imagination

Then we’ll act as if nothing happened
A collective silence
After a collective madness
And we’ll look down
And mix in the crowd
Hide the fact that we’re aware
That our scare was worthy
Of hens and cockerels