Monday, November 7, 2016

Simple and Sentimental

I like toast.
It is nearly the perfect food.
The crust is a must.
It must have tooth.
It must speak as I eat.

Something about food from the fire:
Bread browned, almost burnt
Flour from grain
Grain from seed
Seed from sun…
I return the heat
And release its wonder
Coming close to holding such
Solar secrets upon my tongue.

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