Cast iron pan sizzles with fat.
Hard wet pavement fizzes with
passing traffic, fading in and out
in the background.
The yellow suns gather heat.
Their clear film gradates to opaque
whiteness, with a ruffling skirt that
puffs and subsides
in counterpoint crackling.
The toaster’s pop signals
an abrupt end to this small
While traffic hisses by
we sit, contemplating our offered
feast of needed warmth which waits
to be pricked and pooled,
sopped up and savoured
this cold November morning.
GM, November 2008