A Morning to Savor

I like the pale, cool greyness of this morning.

Mist veils soft green foliage
billowing against the sky.

Problems seem so far away,

shrouded by the fog.

The world is quiet

and soft,

cloistured and safe.

I savor the moment,
a neophyte ready for her oath.

"O APPETITE"

Wildmen

often chew

on the edges of books

rending their pages ‘till

tattered and frayed.

Choirs of ladies

ingest

translucent,

incorporeal bonbons,

jouet jouetes,

sweet and lilting,

ephemeral  and light.

Bijoux

presentations

10 cents a show.

The ardent reader

moves across the page

eyes intent 

catching each allusion

savoring each construction

feeling the metaphors

Kantingly engaged.

Mrs. O’Clary

marks her page

with a bit of buttermilk.

2 tbsp. b. p.

3/4 tsp. a. p.

a dash of almond.

Little Jenny

tucks V. Rabbit

under her arm pit

sucking

her thumb

in she digs 

pulling handfuls

of buggers

which stick on the page

like so many glots

 of white alum paste.

O appetite

thou hoary beast

ye’ roam among the briars

and lead a lad and many a lass

to complicated Dryers.