Sunday, November 24, 2013

You Can't Eat the View

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.

2 Comments:

Anonymous Leslea said...

But first...and always...lovely!

11:38 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Love this poem!

3:53 PM  

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