1.
You come back around to it,
a simple pleasure. Peanut Butter
on toast, made with your own
two hands.
No, you did not grind the nuts,
or the wheat for bread, but
you learned later in life
how to make a lazy sourdough loaf.
The toast, well it elevates
things. Keep it simple.
Eat slow, watch
the bluebirds out your window.
Long ago, when madcap
breakfasts were a flurry of
motherhands and flying hairpins,
you left your crusts for the dogs.
2.
Today’s morning treat
invites “a drop more honey please?”
with alternating sips of
coffee. A memory of
the daily PB&J you
detested with a white hot
passion. Or maybe it was
just your mother’s ambivalence
hastily spread on Wonder Bread
that you tasted and tossed out,
leaving you hungry and mad on your
long walks home from school.
Now, you revel in simplicity and know
it is and it always was enough.
The crunch. The ooze. A distant tang.
The salt, the sweet, the smile they bring.
Early Morning Poems 