Unfortunately I'm swamped with grading right now as the school year comes to a close. I want to maintain my goal of posting weekly and the boys are certainly still actively filling my notes with topics to write about, but I haven't been able to make time to sit down and groom those nuggets of truth tapping at my cerebellum. They're begging to escape so, painful as it will be, I'll do my best to contain them for a while longer. To satisfy you, faithful reader, though, I'll share a recent poem:
Today I sat and ate my breakfast;
I didn't stand behind the trough
In the middle of my kitchen
And slurp at the cereal grains and
Fruit I'd poured into a bowl.
I sat.
I sat and sprinkled my breakfast with
The words of a poet.
A poet who speaks in such a way that
I must sit to eat my breakfast.
His words swirl about me in the
Furious flurry of a weekday morning.
They cross my tongue alongside the
Sugary sweetness of cereal and the
Delicate tartness of berries,
Fortifying me before I start the day.
The soft stirrings of my sons
Waft in from the back bedrooms
Like the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
I have precious few moments left
Alone with the poet before I can no longer sit.
I have precious few moments to spend with my boys
Before I must head off to work.
I scoop up a final spoonful of words
Before scooping up my sons for a morning embrace.
I gather my bag and keys and
Stand next to the table where the
Rinds of poems sit alongside
An empty bowl.
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