It's Still Life

A Morning Recipe

the pot warmed,
just boiled water
no longer a stranger
to tea leaves stirred
into the morning.

rain drenches half truths into the weather report, clouds squeezed thin of bright clarity,

a drift of milk
gentle on the brim,
sipped from a china cup
it’s a comfort scent
like toasting bread.

starlings have returned, tearing the grass, beaks of knives and forks at tender worms,

butter and black iron
two eggs puddle
in shimmering heat
the scent is hard as
a thin parsed smile.

a two egg morning, and there’s a snail climbing up and across the window

dVerse Bon Appétit Food Poetry. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter