Wintertime
Saturday, December 22nd, 2007Breakfast wonderland
Clouds of steam rising frozen
From hot buttered toast
Breakfast wonderland
Clouds of steam rising frozen
From hot buttered toast
With eyes closed I flee
Into the eastern wind, yet -
My toast is still warm
Loaf’s fortunate heels
Spared from a toasty demise
United at last
Scrape into the sink
Constellation of black stars
A toast neglected
Willingly it meets
Its destiny at breakfast
Noble is my toast
Bakery arson
Twelve thousand slices of toast
A silver lining
The warm chosen slice
His jealous untoasted friends
Waiting for their turn
Chilled below zero
Superconducting breakfast
With sweet grape jelly
Thirty-six croutons
Sewn together with great care
Spicy slice of toast