Today’s poem is “avenaceous” ...av-uh-ney-shuhs ... of or like oats. (Dictionary.com)
Daily
I wake up slowly, stretching, blinking,
The blinding sun hiding behind blackout curtains.
I stumble, needing coffee, to the kitchen and see,
A happy Quaker smiling on my cereal box.
He is satisfied, apparently, with his position,
Representing the good, the healthy and the holy ...
A lot to expect from a bowl of avenaceous porridge,
Yet he seems filled with confidence.
If I eat of this I wonder, will I too be blessed?
My body and character changed for the better?
Is this the holy communion of an ordinary day,
A ritual which could be used to recreate the world?
Anne Selleck
Copyright 2019
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