Butter My Bread

Oh...so many poor, lost souls

My baby, you really did not know?

When you eat toast with jam

As the sun rises in the east

Birds chirping and twittering

Flitting about

In the hedge of a Rhododendron

The slice of bread must always be warm and toasted

On both sides

And butter liberally applied

Upon the surface intended

For a deposit of Kerrygold

Land O’Lakes

Butter…

Then, and only then

May jam be spooned and slathered

Lathered, spread

Upon the surface of the bread

And my dear

Did you not hear?

Should you desire a special sort of toast

The type that is round as the rising sun

Bagel they do call it

It must also be toasted

Though only on the two interior surfaces

And cheese that has been creamed

Must be applied to both those surfaces

Before the addition of smoked salmon

Tomato, onion

Caper berries…perhaps a grind or two of black pepper

If you so choose.

If a breakfast that is cold

Is more to your liking

Perhaps a bowl of sweetened cereals

With milk of the bovine ilk

But be forewarned…

The cereal must enter the bowl dry

Before milk is lovingly poured from the pitcher

To cause it to crackle and rise to the rim

How else are you to know

Exactly how much milk the cereal requires?

Each mark is different

Corn pops, Cheerios, Crispix

Some take more, some take less

How reckless it would be

To serve a bowl of milk to the wayward traveler

Asking him to add cereals upon it!

My G-d they could drown!

Floating upon that cold sea

Helpless, soggy

Never able to fulfill their perfect destiny

Crunchy yet wet and milky sweet

Such a tragedy

Forgive them my Lord

They know not what they do…