Poem #6

Milk in its prescribed glass

coffee, one sugar, steaming

a muffin tanned, gleaming with butter

Rain this morning, so 

an egg’s golden eye

peppered with sunspots

However wrong this day may go

ThisNow is perfect

taste

savor

.

.

.

the crunch of eggshell against teeth.

cropped-img_5657.jpg

 

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Categories: chickens are birds too, Nests, postcard poems | Tags: , | Leave a comment

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