Morning, Toast

Bacon sizzles, almost crispy
Eggs are poaching, whites still wispy
Pancakes, edges golden brown
Maple syrup running down
Gently burbling coffee pot
Come and get it, piping hot
At the table, reach for cream
When bubble bursts. It’s been a dream.
No breakfast, I am still in bed
The morning feast just in my head
Beneath the covers nestled deep
For one half hour more of sleep
Rise bright and early? Not for me.
I’ll settle for just toast and tea.

Chocolate chip pancakes at Jim’s on the Bedford Highway last Sunday reminded me of how much I love breakfast–but I loathe getting up early. I have great admiration for people that can get up early enough to make breakfast, go for a run, read the paper, or anything that morning people do. My mornings consist of getting up in exactly enough time to wash, dress, and make it out the door.
This year, as with last, I decided I’d do NaPoWriMo but only if I could knock out a poem a day in about 15-30 minutes. I happened to think of this last night as I was falling asleep, and actually remembered it to write down this morning. Cheers to the morning folk!