You Can't Eat the View
but you can take a tumble
in that pile of golden ginkgo leaves
pressed against the gate. My actions
are frequently ill-advised,
but percolating anyway.
Fists pump to breakfast metal
while a plastic bag appears
to be struggling to stay in a tree.
Good morning, from the end of something;
where melancholia meets promise.
But first, this robust German bread
with a dollop of peanut butter
and a glob of honey.