BURNT TOAST
Would you offer a guest who has traveled far
Burnt toast from yesterday?
If it’s all you have, then this will do.
‘No way,’ I hear you say.
Would you
rather offer a sheer delight,
Creamy buttery bread
Still smelling of baker’s dough?
“Yes, Yes, ‘ you answer low.
All care should then be taken
With a serving for the soul.
Line up the poet’s recipe
In a wabi-sabi bowl.
Each morsel, a sliver of ‘bacon’
Crisp and tender to the ear,
Golden, egg-ripple interplay
Resembles the wandering seer.
Slow cooking, play with one line,
For an hour, a day, or a year.
Unique ideas are a breakfast feast,
Researched and sifted through.
The ego has no place in rhyme.
Who will offer a serving to you?
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