Saturday, November 20, 2010

Poo Steam

Cold foggy morning laying in its bed.
Silence still resting its weary head.
Restless dogs are at the ready.
The first footsteps are hardly steady.

This old house is frozen too.
A sweater, yes for me and you.
Water droplets drip outside
Flowers glisten diamond eyed

The sun casts sideways through the house
Shaddows long - a golden dowse
Creeking wood with every stair
Toenails race from here the there.

Ahh – the morning times fine warm convection.
Not this time a sweet confection.
Something steamy, warm and wet.
A breakfast treat left by my pet.

Too familiar to be a dream.
Fresh as toast with rising steam.
So keen a nose when they wiff and smell.
All the contents they could tell.

For me it’s just an awful waking.
Forsaking – a chance for picture taking.
But unlike last time I did not step
Into the morning breakfast “Crepe.”

And as the shadows crawl the wall
I know the day will all in all
Be great and warm and another miracle
A blessing each and often satirical.

Carl Deal

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